#round rugs for sale

[getbysize]

Shop Round Area Rugs for Sale

Explore the perfect decoration for your space with our collection of round area rugs at RugsBySize. Find the ideal round rug for sale that complements your decor and increases your home's ambiance. One of the key benefits of round rugs is that they can help define a space within a larger room. Purchase now and add a touch of elegance to any room with our diverse options of round rugs.

[canberrarugsau]

Discover stunning round rugs at unbeatable prices at Canberra Rugs! Perfect for adding a touch of elegance to any room, our collection offers various styles and sizes to suit your decor. Visit us today at https://canberrarugs.com.au/collections/round-1 and find your perfect rug!

[goddessesgemstemufinds]

Dragon Round Rug

Dragon Round Rug Doormat Floor Mat Dragon Carpet Home Carpet Hotel Living Room Floor Mats Anti Slip, Available Machine Wash 👉 -91% off discount+EXTRA 30% OFF❤️ 🎉 Flash sale[$3.14] -91% off 👉 item link: https://temu.to/m/u8ukqjjmero ⚠️ Every New App User can only enjoy once

[therugcollective]

Discover the allure of round rugs and the practicality of washable area rugs at The Rug Collective. Our round rugs bring timeless elegance to any space, while washable area rugs ensure easy maintenance without compromising on style. Available in various designs, these rugs seamlessly blend into your decor, offering both charm and convenience. Elevate your home with the perfect combination of round rugs' sophistication and the functionality of washable materials. Explore The Rug Collective's collection, where quality and style converge, creating a harmonious ambiance that stands the test of time. Redefine your living spaces with our exquisite round and washable area rugs today.

[yes-rughouse-universe]

Buy Shaggy Fluffy Rugs On Online Sale

Want to add a cosy and stylish touch to your home? Check out our shaggy rugs for sale in NZ. These fluffy rugs are the perfect addition to any room. Shop now and elevate your space!

[lennadanvers]

Winter back home

Simon Riley x Reader

He has a problem.

He’s had problems all his life. He’s got a lot of experience in dealing with problems, really. The ones that can be solved with bullets, anyway.

This is not that kind of problem. Well, maybe a bullet could take care of this. But he promised himself he would never take that path. So, he suffers.

His problem is the dichotomy. His problem is Ghost, months of suffocating under a stale mask, the orders, the blood, the uniform. His problem is Simon, weeks of nothing, the silence, the civilian comfort, being a person.

He’s gone. Somewhere between base and “home”- a cold, dark flat in the outskirts of London-, he lost his soul. Now he isn’t here nor there. None of his names fit him.

He is just a being, two legs on top of two feet that can’t stand the feeling of dry, clean socks inside of simple sneakers. A head, a neck, on top of a pair of shoulders too wide to fit the door of normalcy. A back too tight to bear the weight of actual life. Hands too strong to hold reality without breaking it, skin so rough it tears instead of caressing. A pair of eyes that do not know where to look if not for threats.

He's a storm waiting to happen. Too dark to be a person, too broken to be a man. Too heavy for a ghost.

The flat feels wrong. Especially the first few days. He has to open the windows to let the fresh air in- more like freezing air. It’s okay, he’s used to dealing with the cold. It’s actually being comfortable what makes him uneasy. The fact that he has so much space for himself. He doesn’t have things. He doesn’t own more than a couple changes of clothes. His sofa looks new, even though he bought it years ago. His bed is soft, his bedside table is empty. He owns a table, two chairs and headphones. One bottle of water. Four glasses, a cheap six-piece cutlery set. Some plates he bought on sale. One rug he doesn’t step on. A broom. Shampoo, toothbrush and toothpaste are in the bag he brings from base. Even his bike just takes up half his designated parking space.

Other than that, he has nothing.

The other thing that bothers him is the silence. He should be able to sleep in the quiet- he’s fallen asleep in active bombing zones, for God’s sake. But the white noise of the cars, the soft humming of the refrigerator- all they do is keep him awake. It’s always too quiet, too… Too safe. He knows it’s a trap. It always is.

That’s why he checks the windows.

Like now, when he enters the apartment in silence. The lights stay off until he’s cleared every room. Then he turns them all on. His duffel bag goes into the wardrobe, still closed. The boots under the bed. He changes into civilian clothes, checks the pantry- empty, always empty- and starts his rounds.

He checks the three windows: the small one in the bathroom, the one in the bedroom that looks over the neighbor’s rooftop, and the one in the living room. Usually, the last one is his favorite. The view lets him keep an eye on the street, alert in case there’s something suspicious lurking down there.

This time, though, he can’t look down.

He’s stuck in the window in front of his. The apartment building across the street is nicer than the one he’s standing in. By his standards, anyway. That means it looks warm and worn down. Brick walls instead of grey cement, wood stairs instead of metal. It has pots with flowers and an old mirror in the entrance.

There’s only one apartment with the lights still on. It’s late, he reminds himself, for normal people. Most of them are asleep at two in the morning.

You’re not. Through your open curtains, he can see your tired face. You’re curled up on a desk chair, with messy hair and reading glasses on. Your pajama is cute, it looks soft and a little too big. It fits you perfectly. You’re holding a steaming cup and frowning at the pile of papers on top of your desk.

When you fix the -presumably hand-knitted- blanket on top of your shoulders, he frowns. Aren’t you cold? You should close the window.

And go to bed, while you’re at it. What are you doing up this late, anyway? Working? He hopes not. A cute little thing like you should have a quiet job, with stable working hours and low stress. But you look very stressed. Maybe you’re studying. That’s it, probably. You don’t look his age, but he’d bet you’re in your late twenties, maybe thirties.

He pictures you getting a degree. It’s easy, you look smart. Oh, you must have a degree already. Surely, he decides, you must have one. You’re getting a doctorate now, aren’t you?

It’s a silly question, of course. He knows nothing about you, except that you should be sleeping instead of munching at a cookie. But it’s a relief to pretend he does. To believe he can see life through your window. If he had to guess, that’s what living looks like: a woman in the room, plans for the future, eating homemade treats and knowing you’ll survive the upcoming test, even if you don’t pass.

For the first time since he bought this place, he’s actually there. As if taking a deep breath, Simon is suddenly aware of his body. The t-shirt he’s wearing is soft, a little too thin for the weather. The place smells like leather- must be the sofa. Was the ceiling always this high? Simon makes a mental note to buy air freshener and a blanket.

It takes him a couple of days of staring out the window to realize what happened.

It’s Friday, and he’s checked your closed blinds for the third time this afternoon. Simon hasn’t seen you today. He sighs and turns around. He goes to open one of the kitchen drawers when it hits him.

There are cookies in there. Two different kinds. And he’s wearing slippers- they were on sale at the supermarket, and he didn’t even think about it. But he’s thinking about it now. Simon looks around. One of his jackets is hanging by the door. There’s lint on the rug. The cushions on the sofa are out of their place. He left a mug on the counter.

He's living again.

It a crushing discovery. Once he saw it, it’s impossible to miss. He made plans. He has tickets to watch a movie next Tuesday. When was the last time he planned something other than a mission? And cookies? Simon hasn’t eaten cookies since he enlisted. Maybe longer. His clothes are comfortable. Actually comfortable, he doesn’t need to ignore the fabric irritating his skin. The windows are closed: he’s not cold. It’s quite nice, honestly. And the place smells like someone lives here. A mix of cologne, tea and leftovers from lunch.

The flat doesn’t feel empty. Simon doesn’t feel empty.

His muscles give out. It’s not a dramatic fall, more like an extreme relaxation. It hurts a little; like clenching your fist for hours and then letting your hand open. The blood starts flowing back with a tingle. The oxygen gets where it is supposed to go. There is a strange open space in the palm of your hand.

The relieved smile is a side effect.

He still wears it when he settles back down on the couch. Someone is playing music outside, and the plants on your building’s hall are blooming. What a weird time to bloom, in the middle of the cold.

Simon understands, though, when he sees you finally open your blinds.

Yes, he gets the desire to be alive now.

A/n: I sat down to write and four hours later I'm posting this. It is not proofread and I'm a little too tired to care. Maybe I'll fix it later. Also, my anxiety has been a bitch lately (that means I freeze instead of being able to reply to messages and asks- my poor friends have the patience of a thousand saints stacked on top of each other), so I won't reply to the asks today. Maybe tomorrow, we'll see. In any case, I hope you're all having a great weekend, full of flowers and treats <3

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Vice surrenders

I'm on tour with my new novel The Bezzle! Catch me TONIGHT in LA with Adam Conover at Vroman's, then on MONDAY in Seattle with Neal Stephenson, then Portland, Phoenix and more!

Vice died the way it lived: being suckered in by smarter predators, even as it trained its own predatory instincts on those more credulous than its own supremely gullible leadership. RIP, we hardly knew ye.

For those of you who don't know, Vice was a Canadian media success story. It was founded by a motley clique of hipsters, one of whom – founder of the Proud Boys – has since grown to be one of the world's great fascism influencers. Another perfected the art of getting young people to work "for exposure" even as he built a massive, highly lucrative media empire on their free labor:

https://www.canadaland.com/podcast/vice-oral-history/

Eventually, Vice transitioned to a string of progressively worsening corporate owners, each more dishonest, predatory – and gullible – than the last. The company was one of the most enthusiastic marks for Facebook's infamous "pivot to video" – in which Mark Zuckerberg destroyed half the media industry by tricking them into thinking that the public was clamoring for video content, based on fraudulent viewing numbers:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pivot_to_video

Vice went all-in on video, spending hundreds of millions to finance Zuckerberg's doomed attempt to conquer Youtube. But unlike other the rubes who got zucked, Vice found greater fools to scam, convincing giant, slow-moving meidia companies that the best way to get in on the Next Big Thing was to shower them with vast sums of string-free money:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Viceland_(Canadian_TV_channel)

And yet, at every turn, through a succession of increasingly incompetent owners who bought the stumbling, declining Vice at fire-sale prices and then proceeded to hack away at the wages and tools its journalists depended on while paying executives salaries so high that they beggared the imagination, Vice's reporters continued to turn out stellar material.

This went on literally until the last moment. The memorial posted by 404 Media rounds up a selection of major stories Vice's beleaguered, precarious writers produced even as Vice's vulture capitalist leadership were pulling the rug out from under them:

https://www.404media.co/behind-the-blog-vices-legacy-and-the-idea-that-the-internet-is-forever/

True to form, those private equity scumbags locked all those workers out of the company's CMS without notice – and then forgot to lock down the podcasting back-end. That allowed a group of Vice veterans – Matthew Gault, Emily Lipstein, Anna Merlan, Tim Marchman and Mack Lamoureux – to gather for a totally unauthorized, tell-all session that they pushed out on an official Vice channel:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TKT4OtDEJRA

It's a hell of a listen. Not only do these Vice veterans have lots of fascinating history to recount, but they also describe the conditions under which those blockbuster stories of Vice's final days were produced. As the "visionary leaders" of the company paid themselves millions, they halted payments to key suppliers, from Lexisnexis to the interview transcription service the writers depended on. Writers paid out of pocket to search PACER court records.

Not only did Vice's reporters do incredible work under terrible and worsening circumstances, but the Vice writers who got out ahead of the total collapse are also doing incredible work. 404 Media is a writer-owned investigative news publisher founded by four Vice escapees – Samantha Cole, Jason Koebler, Emanuel Maiberg and Joseph Cox, which is both producing incredible work and sustaining the writers who founded it:

https://www.404media.co/

All of which leads to an inescapable conclusion: whatever problems Vice had, they didn't include "writers don't do productive work" and also didn't include "that work isn't economically viable*. Whatever problems Vice had, they weren't problems with Vice's workers – it was a problem with Vice's bosses.

Which makes Vice's final, ignominious punishment at the hands of those bosses even more brutal, stupid and inexcusable. According to the leaked memos emanating from the company's investors and their millionaire C-suite toadies, the business's new strategy is abandoning their website in order to publish on social media.

This is…I mean, this,..

This is…

Wow.

I mean, wow.

The thing is, the social media business model is a giant rug-pull. They're not even bothering to hide their playbook anymore. For social media, the game is to encourage media companies to become reliant on third parties to reach their audiences. Once that reliance is established, the companies turn down – or even halt – the ability of those media companies to reach their audience altogether. Then, they charge the media companies to reach their audiences:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/06/save-news-we-need-end-end-web

Now, this wasn't always quite so obvious. Back when Vice was falling for Facebook's "pivot to video," it wasn't completely obvious that the long con was to take your audience hostage and ransom them back to you. But deliberately organizing your business to be reliant on social media barons today? It's like trusting your money to Sam Bankman-Fried…in 2024.

If there was ever a moment when the obvious, catastrophic, imminent risk of trusting Big Tech intermediaries to sit between you and your customers or audience, it was now. This is not the moment to be "social first." This is the moment for POSSE (Post Own Site, Share Everywhere), a strategy that sees social media as a strategy for bringing readers to channels that you control:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/19/now-we-are-two/#two-much-posse

Predicting that a social media platform will rug the media companies that depend on it today doesn't take a Sun Tzu – as cunning strategies go, the hamfisted tactics of FB, Twitter and Tiktok make gambits like "Lucy and the football" look like von Clausewitz.

The most bonkers part of this strategy is that it's coming from private equity bosses, who laud themselves as the great strategists of the 21st century, whose claim on so much of our global capital and resources is derived from their brilliant insight, which allows them to buy "distressed assets" like Vice, "restructure" them to find "efficiencies" and sell them on.

The reality is that PE goons – like other financiers – are basically herding animals. Everyone's hit on the tactic of buying up beloved media companies – from the 150-year-old Popular Science to modern publications like CNet – and then filling them with spammy garbage in the hopes that Google will fail to notice and continue to award them pride-of-place on search results pages:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/21/im-feeling-unlucky/#not-up-to-the-task

The fact that these billionaire brain-geniuses can't figure out how to "turn around" a site whose workers a) produce brilliant, popular, successful work; and b) depart to found successful firms that commercialize that work tells you everything about their ability to spot "a good business opportunity."

PE – like other mafiosi – only have one business-plan, the "bust out," where you invade a business that produces useful things, force them to pay your chosen suppliers sky-high fees for things they don't need, extract massive fees for your "management" and then walk away from the collapse:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/02/plunderers/#farben

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/24/anti-posse/#when-you-absolutely-positively-dont-give-a-solitary-single-fuck

[princessracecar]

Daniel hears the !!!!! Inside his head and lets out a beleaguered sigh, letting his head slump over the back the uncomfortable chair he’s sitting in. It is 1o’clock in the afternoon on a Tuesday in mid November and they are at the Herman Miller store on Park Avenue because they need a new sofa for the condo. The condo that Armand purchased pre-construction sometime in the early 90’s and promptly forgot about until the formal assets were divvied up in the divorce. The dues were being paid automatically out of an account that had been collecting interest since before Daniel was born.

The !!!!!!! Grows louder inside his skull and Daniel resigns himself to the fact that he is going to have the leave the uncomfortable chair to see whatever monstrosity Armand has set his fickle little vampire heart on. At least this store doesn’t sell rugs. Or maybe they do. He honestly isn’t sure if there is anything the store won’t sell, up to and including the sales people themselves for the absolutely obscene amount of money Armand is spending while dragging him from room to room like a vaguely alarmed blow up doll. When they had offered up a private car to escort them to the warehouse offsite Armand had practically vibrated off his side of the spindly Eames sofa they had been sharing and directly into his elbow causing him to nearly spill the thimbleful of piping hot espresso he was awkwardly clutching. It had almost been worth the whole endeavor just to see the terrifyingly efficient saleswoman flinch ever so slightly at the upset. He is fairly certain the excited buzzing isn’t over a rug though. Thus far, Armand has attempted to purchase 83 rugs for their 2500 square foot condo, which to Daniel seemed excessive even by Armand standards. He had managed to talk him out of 14 of them but the remaining 69 were sitting in a rather alarming stack on their living room floor. Daniel wasn’t sure what Armand planned to do with them all. Maybe make a nest. Or slither himself underneath the stack and use them as a really, really heavy weighted blanket. Honestly, Daniel thinks to himself, maybe that would fix him.

Daniel heaves himself out of the idiotically named Coconut chair and makes his way out of the seating area and towards the back of the warehouse, following the growing sense of excitement emanating from a stack of particularly hideous sectionals. He rounds the corner and comes to an abrupt halt.

“No.” He says

“Absolutely not.” He says

Armand gives him a look that is half deeply offended and half deeply wounded. It’s pathetic. Like a wet kitten hissing at you. He sighs again.

“It looks like the chairs you sit in at the movie theatre.”

“Exactly!” Pipes Armand enthusiastically. Smiling in a way that manages to show all of his teeth at once.

“They have recently re-introduced the Chiclet line back into circulation, however, when I heard that there was an original in the warehouse…”

Daniel tunes out the rest and resigns himself to his fate.

“… you’ll notice that the condition is particularly suburb with minimal sun-fading on the seat backs-“

Daniel interrupts Armand mid-diatribe.

“And this will make you happy?”

Armand looks at him, across the back of the “modular seating arrangement” with his eyes slitted like a contented cat.

“Yes, beloved. This will make me very happy.”

‘Ok.” Says Daniel

“Alright, fine.” Says Daniel

“When can they deliver it?”

The terrifyingly efficient saleswoman from earlier appears suddenly at his elbow, proffering an iPad and a stack of forms. He jumps slightly to the left and is almost sorry for his lack of espresso, although her ire would absolutely not be worth the sad, wet kitten look Armand would give him if he ruined their “new” sofa before it even left the warehouse.

Armand’s joy is radiant.

Daniel feels like he should have put up more of a fight before abruptly remembering the gray prison aesthetic of the Dubai penthouse.

On the drive home, Armand gazes contentedly out the window. The lines of his back for once relaxed.

“I’m going to fuck you over the back of that sofa.” Says Daniel into the silence.

“Actually,” says Armand with an accompanying image beaming it’s way directly into his brain “I believe you’ll find that it is the perfect hight for me to fuck you over the back of it.”

[jillyjesson]

NEW: ON SALE! My Blue Saguaro Sunset Series is a detailed mixed media work revealing the big indigo sky full of sparkling stars lighting up an ancient saguaro reaching for the moon from the desert southwest. This design matches the round rug and modern acrylic print available as a series of original art works.

Create a cozy and warm atmosphere at home with my saguaro art, perfect for any home design with a southwest theme. Create a perfect holiday decor easy‼️

Jilly Jesson Fine Art & Design, Tucson, AZ - Copyright.

XO Art By Jilly, Moksha Design ©

https://cowgirlmoksha.etsy.com ©

#saguaros #catalinafoothills #Tucson #Arizona #JillyJesson #interiordesign #southweststyle #saguaronationalpark #saguaro #sunset #sky #stars #gifts #coldweather #HolidayHome #HolidaySeason #holidayshopping #artgallery #modernartist

[transportaplooza]

Reviving the Legends: The Timeless Appeal of the 1963 Ford F100

In the grand tapestry of automotive history, certain vehicles stand out not just as icons of their era, but as enduring symbols of automotive excellence. Among these legends, the 1963 Ford F100 holds a special place, embodying the spirit of American craftsmanship, durability, and style.

Let’s take a journey back in time to explore what made this truck a timeless classic.

A Design Ahead of its Time

The 1963 Ford F100 represented a significant evolution in truck design. With its clean lines, bold grille, and iconic round headlights, it was an aesthetic departure from its predecessors. The design language exuded a sense of strength and purpose, while still maintaining an unmistakable elegance.

But it wasn’t just about looks. The F100 was built to work. Its robust chassis and suspension were designed to handle heavy loads and rough terrain, making it a favorite among farmers, tradesmen, and adventurers alike. Whether hauling cargo on the farm or navigating rugged trails, the F100 proved itself as a reliable workhorse.

Power and Performance

Under the hood, the 1963 F100 offered a range of engine options to suit various needs and preferences. From the dependable 223 cubic inch inline-six to the potent 292 cubic inch V8, there was an engine configuration for every requirement. These engines delivered ample power and torque, ensuring that the F100 could tackle any task with ease.

Additionally, the F100’s optional four-speed manual transmission provided precise control over gear selection, allowing drivers to optimize performance for any driving condition. Combined with its sturdy construction and responsive steering, the F100 offered a driving experience that was both exhilarating and confidence-inspiring.

Enduring Legacy

Beyond its capabilities on the road, the 1963 Ford F100 left an indelible mark on popular culture. It became a symbol of American ingenuity and resilience, appearing in countless movies, television shows, and music videos over the years. Its timeless design and rugged performance have earned it a devoted following among collectors and enthusiasts, who continue to cherish and preserve these iconic trucks to this day.

In recent years, there has been a resurgence of interest in vintage trucks like the F100, as drivers seek out vehicles with character and personality in an increasingly homogenized automotive landscape. Restored examples command premium prices at auctions, while aftermarket suppliers offer a plethora of parts and accessories to keep these classics on the road for generations to come.

The 1963 Ford F100 is more than just a truck; it’s a piece of automotive history. Its timeless design, robust performance, and enduring legacy have cemented its place in the hearts of enthusiasts around the world. Whether you’re a collector, a weekend warrior, or simply someone who appreciates fine craftsmanship, the F100 represents the best of American automotive engineering. And as long as there are roads to travel and adventures to be had, the legend of the F100 will continue to inspire generations of drivers to come.

[getbysize]

Shop Round Area Rugs for Sale | RugsBySize

Explore the perfect decoration for your space with our collection of round area rugs at RugsBySize. Find the ideal round rug for sale that complements your decor and increases your home's ambiance. Purchase now and add a touch of elegance to any room with our diverse options of round rugs.

[pbandjesse]

We just had a stressful 20 minutes. Everything is fine now but man. Did not expect that! Sweetp tried to jump over the fence. We banished him into the house but then he pushed open the catio door?! Broke the caribeaner and was alone in the back!! And then in figuring out how to secure the door me and James were in the basement finding a drill bit and I accidently stepped on James's hand so hard they are icing it now. We are just killing it tonight.

Today was not nearly as stressful. It was mainly a really nice day. Mostly restful even if it was to hot.

I didn't sleep great though. I was not feeling amazing emotionally last night and was really upset. Which just made me frustrated with myself. And with James and with the world. So it wasn't the best sleep. And when I woke up I felt. Bleh. The sun was to bright. The world was to hot. But I went and got cleaned up and tried to feel better.

And I did. My hair was dirty and I was to hot. But I was having a nice day. Even if I was sweaty.

I continued to only want to eat Celeste pizzas. I would have my brownie from the farmers market. And then a little frozen pizza. I would spend the morning doing some stuff around the house. I did some cleaning. I moved the one rug from upstairs into the studio. I want to reassess the little room so I was thinking about moving things around in there.

I would try to deal with the heat with fans. I had one going upstairs and two downstairs. The backdoor open. Just trying my best to deal.

I had Ruby the Roomba going and she kept getting stuck today. But it was fine. I put her in the doorway pit because it was really dirty down there. There is a rug that goes in the pit and I will put that back soon. I want to look at peel and stick tiles for in there too though. I just hate the fake wood so much. It feels bad and it looks so cheap. But it's such a small area I am not super concerned about it. It's low on the list.

I would go out for a drive. I took myself to savers to walk around. I listened to music and enjoyed how full the shelves were. There were to many people and they are clearly reorganizing the store so there were a few aisles I couldn't access. But that's was fine.

I found a vintage house building kit I'm excited about. And a few pieces of clothing. Nothing super exciting but some basics and some things I think will be nice for work. Unsure once I tried them on but with some adjustments I think they will be excellent pieces.

I paid and folded all my things and went to the car. I was shocked at how overheated I was. I had brought a nalgene of ice water and it was the only thing keeping me going I swear.

I went to joann's next. They did not have the big eye needles I was looking for. So I would have to order those online. But they did in have a buy three get three sale on thread. I am running low on black and white so I grabbed some of those as well. The line took forever but it was fine.

I drove down the road to go to the goodwill. Which is not a good goodwill but I did find two excellent mirrors. One is a round one with a silver tray and floral details on the edges. And the other is a vintage catalog piece with shelves that I'm going to use for mugs. And they both were only $10 together!! Amazing.

I decided to indulge in a craving I have had and went to Sonic for mozzarella sticks. But I won't be doing that again. While they were good enough, the sauce was sour, and for 5 mozzarella sticks and a small soda it was almost $9??!! Insane.

I went home after that. I was to hot. And my ears were closing up again. Stupid allergies. It was nice to be home.

When I got back here I tried on the clothes. Mixed results but I have some ideas. I would have a snack and hang out with sweetp. Periodically I tried to do some little tasks. I mainly would work on a drawing for my teddy bear hospital and then worked on some research and planning for me and Mom's trip next year.

James would come home before 5. And after drying off would hang out on the couch with me for a bit. We would hang the mug shelf mirror. And learned how to use the Bissell cleaner we got as a house warming gift. There was a learning curve but I'm excited that we have this now. I want to try it for the seats in the car.

We would chill for a bit but soon James said we should go get groceries. And we did just that. (After working together to carry a shopping cart across the parking lot that had broken wheels) We got a little more then James had planned. Snacks and such. But I think we did good. Though we were twarted by an older woman who kept blocking entire aisles and then was in front of us at the only open register and took almost 15 minutes?? The people behind us were angry but I was just like. Confused. But it was fine. We didn't take nearly as long. Packed and paid. I was a little annoyed because James got the cheaper toilet paper and I felt mad. But it wasn't a really a big deal I was just tired and to hot and wanted to go home.

When we got back here James put thing away. And I would drag my rocking chair outside to enjoy the evening. James would bring a chair and a table out too. So they could be on their laptop while I was watching videos on my phone.

We both got a scare when Sweetp jumped on the fence. Scared both of so bad we jumped up and I grabbed him and put him inside.

We would stay outside without Sweetp. He would go in the catio and things would be fine.

Eventually we went back inside. And that's when I heard a sound and was like hmm. Weird.

Then a few minutes later I was like. Wait where is Sweetp. And that's when I saw he was outside on the other side of the catio!! He had pushed the door so hard he broke the lock!! I was so mad!

And like I said in the confusion and trying to fix the issue I stepped on James and felt so bad. But everyone is okay now. Sweetp is trying to hang out because he knows we're upset. But hopefully tomorrow we can try again and everything will be safe and no one tries to go over the fence!!

I cannot wait until we have a good fence and a better backdoor. Hopefully very very soon.

Tomorrow is memorial day! Me and James are going to their cousin's going away party in DC in the afternoon. It is supposed to be a rainy day. But that is okay. I am just hoping it is cooler.

Now though I am going to go wash my hair. Jamea is hanging the smaller mirror in our bedroom for me. I am tired and a little unsettled but I am okay. And I love you all. Goodnight my friends. Until tomorrow.

[expatesque]

Referring to your recent post, would love to see some of the fun things you’ve bought! You have the best taste 😊

Aw thank you.

So the main categories of things have been home stuff and fashion stuff. I do have a tag (of course) but haven't posted everything so to summarize...

Home stuff

Living room: The swan table (an icon, a queen, the inspiration for the room), the insane green velvet chair (we love her, gotta keep it eclectic), snake rug (hiss hiss), a fundamentally impractical sofa (Ikea, concessions had to be made somewhere. I'm going to restuff to make it look more fluffy and expensive). I'm keeping my vintage curio cabinet, 1960's referencing 30's circular bar cart, black arched lamp, and big rubber plant. The inspiration is somewhere between this 1930's Thorne miniature room and hummusbird. I need some paintings, a little table for under the window to display a great vase (got this one in ivory, tbc if it's the right size), and some big new throw pillows (I'm thinking dusky pink). Oh also I'm getting a fish to go in the bookcase (I wanted a white Betta but my dad has said that's a bad idea and suggested a gold fish instead).

Kitchen: An oval marble topped cast iron bistro style table. Keeping my black bistro chairs (2x) and will also use 2 of my armless ghost chairs (like these). Likely to get a small floating island to get a little more counter space. Also bought an insane copper kettle ala my man Rajiv recently.

Main bedroom: I've got a new headboard for my bed (this one), I'm getting rid of the wardrobe in there (using the one in the 2nd bedroom) and will replace it with a vintage dressing table and mirror (I do like this one but would rather not spend that given... everything else) to display my great great grandmother's silver mirror, brush, etc. Need some big Euro shams and perpetually looking for a navy woven blanket that's big enough (I want it like, almost duvet sized).

2nd bedroom: Currently is an office / video game room, turning into a proper 2nd bed. I'll use my meh existing bed, need bedside tables, maybe a new desk chair.

Fashion stuff

It's been a lot of big skirts (my love the Prada one, a really full white canvas-y one, this crazy pink one, a beige cashmere Theory one), a set of heavy ribbed tops with high necks in black and browns (for autumn, this is one of them), a few cropped cardigans (can't find any specific ones that I've bought right now, but short enough to wear with the skirts), a totally sheer cream colored top (that is proving surprisingly versatile already), two cheap Zara wrap vests that I'm waiting to arrive (one in cream and one in black, we'll see the quality when they get here), a Victorian gold charm bracelet (+ a charm of a monkey holding a pearl), a pair of really gorgeous silver and mother pearl earrings from the 50s, some rag and bone soft leather mules, some baby blue Mary Janes, and a set of tiny kitten heels that I really like but am not sure I'm keeping (they're a little narrow but I think I could stretch them). I think there's more but if I think too much about it I'll be stressed (rip my budget). Pro tip: Laura Riley has an incredible fashion newsletter that rounds up what's new and what's on sale -- I've gotten almost everything I've bought on 50%+ off.

[therugcollective]

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[gaps-between-stories]

Fic Preview

A sneak peek of my series Sweet Nothings, a verse filled with so so many babies!

It wasn’t unusual for Ed to wake up before Stede. That was pretty much a given at this stage of their relationship – after a near lifetime of Ed rising with the sun, and just as long of Stede hiding under the covers until the absolute last possible moment, there wasn't much that was going to change that now. 

They’d pretty much distilled their morning routine down to a science, Ed making sure the house (and everyone in it) were awake and out the door on time, coffees in hands and breakfasts in bellies, while Stede took closing shift, ensuring that everyone went off to sleep snug as a bug in a rug. It worked for them, and their system ran on an efficiency he wished he could instill at the marina. 

It was, however, unusual for Ed to wake up before Charlotte. The kid’s circadian rhythm seemed determined to mirror Ed’s, which neither of them were necessarily complaining about, given her proclivity to (mostly) sleeping through the nights now, something they absolutely bragged about in their parenting groups. Was it a little gauche? Probably. But it wasn’t their fault that their kid just happened to be better than all of the other babies. Maybe the other babies should try not being worse than theirs. 

On most mornings, she would start stirring before Ed, starting to get fussy just as he himself was rising. On most mornings, he would find her not so patiently waiting for him to free her from the confines of her crib, a truly inhumane corral, he was sure she’d tell anyone who'd listen, if she could. On most mornings, he would scoop up his deliciously chunky baby and hold her close for as long as he could until she eventually demanded the newly free use of her legs, after which point she was off, more often than not to destroy the living room. 

On this morning, though, Ed slowly stirred to waking in relative silence, hearing only Stede’s soft snoring underneath him. The quiet was almost disorienting – he hadn't had a quiet morning in almost a year. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Ed rolled over to check the baby monitor, seeing Charlotte still curled around her stuffy, fast asleep in her crib. 

There was the briefest of moments – really fucking brief, he wasn’t an actual idiot – where Ed actually debated waking her up, before he immediately decided that if he and Stede wanted any semblance of peace today, that was absolutely not the move. If Stede had a reputation for his attitudes at not getting his way, Charlotte was an actual menace to society if wronged.  

They’d been told she’d grow out of it. Well, probably grow out of it (Stede clearly hadn't). Until then, it was Charlotte’s world and everyone else was just living in it. 

Rolling back over, Ed nestled back into his place against Stede’s chest for another while, lingering in the steady rise and fall of his husband’s breathing under his head. From his sleep, as if on instinct, Stede’s hands shifted back around Ed’s back, holding him in-place as he let out a soft sigh.

They didn't often get these quiet morning moments together, what with their respective sleep schedules and the newly collective (delightful) chaos of rounding up one to three children on any given day. Not that Ed was complaining – he fucking loved his kids – but he did miss these small moments with Stede, the times when the noise from rest of the world didn't matter because the two of them were the only thing in each others orbit. 

Ed knew what he was signing up for when he chose Stede (although he would certainly argue that there was very little real choice in the matter when it came down to it, less of a choice and more of a running head first into a brick wall sort of situation), knew that he was a package deal – the best clearance sale Ed had ever seen, really, if it gave him two extra of his favorite people for the price of the love of his life – and he certainly understood what he'd signed for when he and Stede decided to have Charlotte. He just might have just only skimmed the fine print, alright?

He lingered in Stede's warm embrace another moment, drinking in Stede's sleeping figure. He'd been sleeping better now that Charlotte was sleeping through the night again – they'd thought they'd finally been in the clear a few month ago, but just about as soon as she started sleeping alone a tooth decided to cut in, and thus ensured another several sleepless months as they did their best to comfort her through the discomfort. It worries Stede to absolutely no end when she, or any of them, really, were in such distress, especially knowing there was only so much he could do to make it better. They'd done their best to rotate shifts to help sit up with her, but even when Stede wasn't 'on duty,' so to speak, he still hadn't really been able to bring himself to rest. 

But after several agonizing months of the tears and sore gums and frozen teethers,  it'd seemed that they'd finally, finally turned a corner. Stede still woke regularly through the night to check on her, seemingly on instinct alone, but those checks had been becoming fewer and further in between lately, and the past couple of weeks had given them almost entirely uninterrupted nights of sleep. 

He let him stay in Stede’s embrace for another few moments, before finally deciding that if he was going to stay awake any longer he needed coffee soon. Disentangling himself from his husband, who let out a small whine in his sleep at the loss of contact, Ed quietly shuffled out of the bedroom. 

Stretching as he yawned, he slowly opened the door to Charlotte’s room, careful to not make any noise as he did. He wasn’t going to wake her, he really wasn’t, but he just needed to check on her, he reasoned with himself. Just to check, just to be sure. The soft orange glow of the octopus nightlight in the corner of her room illuminated his path across the plush carpet, through which he shuffled over to her crib. Peering over the top, his heart squeezed at the sight of his daughter.

[underthetree845]

Dream Bookstore

I found the most AMAZING bookstore today. Even if you don’t like reading, I guarantee you would’ve appreciated it. I personally would love to spend days on end there running my fingers across every margin, but it also would’ve been beautiful to photograph, paint, draw, or just have the pleasure of seeing with your very eyes.

When I tell you I could have written an fanfiction (especially an x Armin) centered around this bookstore.

It wasn’t that big of a bookstore. I walked in and it smelled perfect, faintly of wood and old books. There were little trinkets like metal bookmarks, magnifying glasses, antique compasses, and wooden book holders for sale on a little round mahogany table in the center in front of you when you walk in.

The outside was green and the door was in the middle with a window on either side, displays of books outside. The door had a window on it too, and a little green flip sign that read "Open."

You walk in and there is a step down. Immediately, there are books lining the walls to your left and to your right. A lot of them look very old.

There are shelves with little figures and porcelain and clocks by the entrance.

The little round table in the center of the room is right in front of a breathtakingly intricate old gold spiral staircase.

It leads to an upstairs just as breathtaking, with a window out the front letting the rays of sunlight shine through. There are several pots, figures, and statues up there. A comfy chair or two, and of course, wooden shelves filled with books. The railings are delicately carved and have the same old gold metal on top as the metal of the staircase.

Behind the stairs on the bottom floor on the far end of the room (the books along the wall continue throughout the room), is the checkout desk. There are more trinkets for display, an old cash register, and wooden drawers to hold things.

Just to the left of the desk is a door that leads to a small cobblestone square area outside. The walls are high when you look up, the buildings of the street surrounding you. There are little grass and weeds growing between the stones, and a broom set outside.

When you walk across the short area (like six feet/1.8 meters), there is another door that leads to the back part of the bookstore. It lacks a second story and is slightly smaller in size, but otherwise the same as the main area of the bookstore in the front, minus the trinkets lying about.

There is a woven rug on the wooden floorboards, and the books here are dustier. There are some shelves to your left, they probably partially use this place as storage.

I absolutely fell in love.

It was so tranquil and hidden and old but skillfully crafted and kept with so much care.

If you enjoyed the idea of this bookstore, or just like bookstore stories in general, I would highly recommend this x reader fic by @arminsumi

“Bookstore Boy” Chapter Index

(I didn't mean for this to be an advertisement, I just thought of it at the end because I really enjoyed the fic :)