#ill vent because this is basically my bedroom

[mxwhore]

mutuals. i am getting caught in my own bitterness again...

#ill vent because this is basically my bedroom #my younger older brother is caught up in that phase of romantic love when nothing else matter but girlfriend #thats fine i guess it happens #the thing is he forgot about my birthday and i was sad. then he remembered that he forgot and called and said #heyyy lemme make it up to you. lets go grab dinner this weekend (last weekend) #he forgot he even said me and went wine tasting with his gf. so now im double sad AND pissed because #i said no to my friends who actually wanted to see me because i was under the assumption that we were going out #so i sent him a passive aggressive message like heyy dinner was great thx for that xd and he was like what dinner?? #long story short he realized he fucked up again and invited me to dinner for realsies this time #but like. he isnt really inviting me? he and my niece were going to a kiddy place he promised he would take her and said i could tag along #i told him i realize now he just invited that to save face and to forget about it #but now im even sadder cuz i love my niece and she is always happy to see me... i just feel like im stupid or something #theyre going tomorrow and im debating on whether i should swallow my pride and go for her #i probably wont #im still not over it #anyway whatever i got work to do

[risingsouls]

🦎 + how have your holidays been?

A 🦎 for My Stupid Thoughts || Always Accepting!

[Aha. Honestly? Pretty rough. Could have been worse, I guess, but my family pulling some bullshit this year really just...ruined the season for me. If you don't want a long vent that I feel I need to get off my chest, stop reading here and know that my answer is basically could have been worse but not great. But I guess I'd you're curious about me really seeing very clearly where I stand in my family, feel free to read on.

So basically I'll start with this has honestly probably been a long time coming. The differences between me and most of my family, especially the particular clan in question (which, for reference, is basically my oldest brother, his kids, along with my older brother's girlfriend and his oldest son's girlfriend at least; a few other S/Os are newer to the mix, but im sure theyre getting the same bs fed to them as everyone else considering how they operate) have just become more and more glaring over the years. Whether that's politics and general human decency to basic shit like interests and just personalities not meshing. Shit you can generally most past but after a while and a few incidences in recent years (especially this year) I've just....decided I don't care to care any more. If their opinion of me is so low, I don't care to try and change it or entertain being around people who don't care for me.

I'll keep things reserved to this year because they're the most relevant. Back in July, we all went on vacation as a family. We've done it plenty of times before, and besides minor hiccups and one major moment of gross racism and just general bullshit that is probably what really opened my eyes to how this particular sect believes and operates (i.e. i called my older nephew, ill call him T for the sake of clarity, out for some racist comment but somehow i was the one that ended up the bad guy and bullied/laughed out of the cabin; i got onto my niece, I'll call her D, for acting like a horrible and entitled brat to literally everyone because her dad wasnt doing it and, again, i was the bad guy. Keep this pattern in mind), nothing unexpected took place on these trips. We moved on from the situations for the sake of family.

This year, however was just....too much. I'll start with the initial shit I knew on the ground and move into what I found out after concerning this situation. For this vacation, we were all renting a cabin at a lake for the week, something we've done plenty of times before and had a good time. Unfortunately, T's gf, A, had just gotten a new job, so they couldn't make it up to join us until Wednesday evening (we checked in Sunday night). Which was fine. We were happy they could come at all.

A few days before we went, me, my parents, and my brother (W) and his gf (C) were discussing vacation and got on the topic of deciding which rooms we wanted to some degree. It was decided that, since my parents, W and C like to get up early for breakfast, they would take the two rooms on the main floor. I asked if I could have one of the two rooms on the top floor because there would be a lot of kids around, I'm not the biggest fan of kids, and I just need my space in general from EVERYONE from time to time and didn't want to be in the basement where the kids were likely going to be most of the time (there was a TV, a pool table, and other like kid friendly features down there for them to occupy themselves). Everyone agreed that that would be fine so I was content.

Well, as shit usually goes with this family, that's not what ended up happening. W and C got there first and they decided to take one of the upstairs bedrooms. D and her boyfriend got there next and took the other upstairs room. So I was pissed about it because I had specifically asked for one of those rooms with W and C there and knowing what was going on. So when I confronted W about it when we arrived at the cabin, he threw D, his own DAUGHTER, under the bus for taking the other room when, in reality, him and C were the obvious problem here. I wasn't mad at D in the slightest and it made sense that they took the upstairs room they did because it had a pull out couch for her bf's kids. I didn't care about that. I was pissed at W and C who KNEW I called an upstairs room but decided to take it anyway. And I know this doesn't sound like a big deal, but, for context, this is what always happens to me, I'm guess because I'm single with no kids and am generally just quiet and keep to myself, even when I am upset about shit: what I want or even need is completely shoved aside to appease everyone else, and usually because it doesn't quite fit in with what someone else in the family wants to do. As I said, I usually keep quiet, but I did make it known that I was pissed off and just went to wait on the balcony for everyone to pick their rooms, saying I would just do like I usually did and take what was left over. Of course, I ended up in the basement and was constantly bothered by the kids when I was trying to have any time to myself. But I got over it and moved on.

On top of all this, that portion of the family was just....really hostile to me, my other two brothers, and my parents. For literally no reason. Some specific examples: W and C just basically avoided me the rest of the time, and they made it really awkward and apparent they didn't want to be around me or talk to me, even when I made the effort at civility. C acted like a child most of the time, including walking away from a conversation when my mom mentioned something miniscule about gun control (because that was what got brought up, and not by us btw) to refusing to help us clean up the day we left and basically just not talking to anyone on Friday when we all took the boat out on the lake. T and A got there Wednesday night and brought stuff for smores. That was the night I was sickest with covid and the next day didn't have the energy to go to an amusement park with the rest of them, so me, my parents and brother stayed behind. When they got home, T and W first bitched at my mom for the beer being gone (literally only my dad out of all of us was drinking that week, and he wasn't drinking throughout the day like they seemed to want to accuse him and the rest of us of) and then he and A bitched her more because the chocolate for smores was gone and they supposedly brought that "only for the kids." For reference, I saw only a bar and a half left from the night before that, no one told anyone it was just for the kids, and we were all under the impression that, like the rest of the food, we were all sharing all of it. And, compared to the few packages of full size bars they brought, we in no way pigged out while they were gone like they seemed to think and this really upset my mom for good reason as we literally did nothing wrong. These two were also just generally snotty the whole time over stupid little things like the fact that we didn't want to go to the amusement park for our various reasons, most of which was we were sick or just getting over the worst part of being sick, but I guess that didn't matter.

So finally it was all over and I couldn't be happier to fo tf home. However, I found out after the fact that D had cried the night we got there because she thought I was mad at her for taking one of the upstairs rooms. Of course, no one talked to me about it as it always goes and I felt horrible because I was in no way pissed at her (I texted her and let her know that, too, and explained what actually happened). But what was really telling and just really gross about that whole thing was that W and C were completely okay with not only throwing me under the bus to save their own asses but to also throw D, his DAUGHTER'S, ass under the bus and risk ruining my relationship with her just so they could appear faultless and get their way in this situation. They were okay make ME look like the bitch and asshole when I really wasn't at fault at all in that situation. But of course, that part of the family only got W and C's side of the story. Which is important for this more recent bit that really just cemented my discontent.

Fast forward to December. Every year, we do a little secret Santa gift exchange on Christmas eve in the evening. We discussed it on Thanksgiving with everyone and that's what we all agreed was what we would do this year. We even use a gift exchange app that I put all the info into that they could look at to see the when and what time at any point. Come about two weeks beforehand and T texts our group chat asking what day we were doing it, and that he and A planned to go to her family's party in the afternoon/evening on Christmas eve. I'm sitting with my parents at the time and we're all just kind of like seriously? We had this all planned. So I texted back saying we planned on doing it in the evening on Christmas eve like we always have. His response was a half asses excuse that they thought the fate set on the app was just a placeholder, and that he guessed they would make it by if they made it by. He also tried to guilt us by playing the "we have multiple places to go" card. I could tell my mom was upset about it even if she acted like it was fine. This is what literally all of them do when my parents try to plan a family thing: they treat it as what feels like an afterthought and/or the last stop behind everyone else every time. I know it hurts my mom, I've watched it my whole life since I was little and I had just had enough.

So, me being me, I confronted T about it. I basically said you know this is kind of bs because we've had this planned for a month now but you guys couldn't have worked around what was already planned and instead expect my parents to work around you all like we always have to do. I told him that it was really unfair to my parents and that he was hurting them, not me (as he seemed to think I was mad for ME) by not coming. Well he didn't like that and went off again about needing to go to multiple places--which I do get btw. He then had the audacity to bring up the vacation fiasco, throwing the room thing in my face and calling me selfish and a problem for making a big deal "out of nothing." Remember, he was not there when any of this took place nor did he ever ask me or anyone else about what happened, save for probably W and C. I basically ended the conversation there, telling him to stfu about shit he doesn't know the full story about and I just reiterated again that, by not coming, it's his grandparents he's hurting (who he claimed, BTW, were the only people he would come for at all), not me, and was done with it. To top it off, my dad talked to him the next day about it because they didn't want any hard feelings and to set T straight about what actually happened on vacation. T said he knew he shouldn't have brought that up and said he would text me to apologize. Guess what he didn't do? Unsurprising to me at least.

So I just basically said I wasn't doing the family Christmas shit this year. I literally sat in my room with the dogs and played pokemon. Was that petty? Maybe. But I didn't really want to he around any of them after all the shit they've pulled not only this year but throughout my life. Nobody asked about me while they were there. Nobody came to talk to me or wish me merry Christmas. Nobody cared that I wasn't there for the holiday (save for my parents). My younger nephew was literally the only person to ask me why I wasn't there and show any sign that he noticed when I came down after everyone left. It was just the nail in the coffin of confirming that I'm not wanted or liked when it comes to that sect of the family. They could literally care less if I'm around and it really showed this holiday season. It has made me even more eager to fucking move away from here and maybe never come back.

So, in short, as is probably typical, my family ruined my Christmas for me. I didn't get to enjoy my family like I would hope to because they suck. But maybe it's for the best. Its given me new strength to just do what's best for me and what I'm comfortable with rather than stomaching people's presence that I don't really want to stomach. And I know this is definitely like. First world problems when it comes to family because I know people that have SO MUCH WORSE grievances with family than me but...yeah. it comes down to I'm really just sick of certain members of my family treating not only me but especially my parents like absolute dog shit for NO reason. And no one ever says anything because ether don't want to cause problems. But I guess if no one else will, ill put on the bitch crown they've put on me anyway and stand up for myself and them. I'm just beyond done]

#.:ask:. #.:ooc:. #long post #sorry about the vent #its been festering for weeks so #oops

[queen-of-the-icemark]

Taking a break from poetry today to vent as a librarian about some common misconceptions amoung library patrons.

1. Place things on hold! Holds drive purchases. If you don’t put it a hold on it, we don’t know you want it. Yes, you can tell someone at the desk, but unless it’s the right department AND they remember to properly make note of it, that doesn’t help.

2. Make purchase requests! Like holds, purchase requests tell us what our community wants us to buy. Even if only three people check it out - or just the one person who made the request - it’s still oodles better than us buying something we think might be interesting to people and then it never being checked out. Purchase requests also tell us when our patron want materials we consider “higher risk,” in the sense that they might not appeal to our readers, such as self-published book, small press books, and debut titles. Yes, your library might have limits on how many purchase request one person can make each month, but we still want you to make them!

3. ILLs are not an inconvenience! If I have one more person say they don’t want to make an inter-library loan request because “they don’t want to be a bother” I’m going to loose my fucking mind! You think that after spending 10+ minutes trying to find if this book is available anywhere in the fucking country, I don’t want to see if they’ll send it here for you? Are you fucking kidding me? ILLs let libraries share resources so they can get patrons what they want - books, movies, CDs, videogames, basically any physical type of media - without overspending their budget. ILLs are also a great way to get books that are out of print and too expensive, or just plain unavailable, to buy for the collection. Also, those check-outs count towards the home library’s circulations stats. You know, one of the big things used to decide if it stays in the collection. So ILLs help keep materials available for longer for the whole country.

4. Check out things you might not use! Speaking of circ stats. I struggle not to kill folks who say, “Oh, I wanted to check it out, but I wasn’t sure it’d get to it.” Who cares! If it’s in high demand and you don’t want to keep other people waiting, fine. But most books are weeded if they don’t go out for 3 years; sometimes 2 years at smaller libraries. Movies and video games have similar weeding criteria. Even if you don’t end up reading it, checking out a book shows us you wanted to read it, and if our stats show enough people our still interested in an older title, we’ll do more to keep it in our collection. Likewise, if materials are too worn or damaged, circ stats are a big factor in whether or not the item gets replaced or not.

5. We don’t throw away usable items! I want to smack people when they give me shit about items being weeded from the collection, because it’s usually phrased something like, “I can’t believe you threw away all those books!” We didn’t! Items in good condition are resold at the library for insanely cheap prices along with donated material we can’t add to our collection. Heavily worn items are donated to organizations like Better World Books, which gives them to low income communities along with other resources to foster literacy. The only stuff that gets thrown away is the same stuff you’d throw away if it were in your house. Things that have mold, severe water damage, beg bugs, books lice, or are just literally falling apart in my hands. Yes, some libraries are very big, but no matter how large the building might be, physical space is always limited by being physical. Just like your bedroom, their is literally only so much room for stuff. When we do have to get rid of something, we do everything we can to put it in the hands of someone who will love it.

Okay, that’s my library rant. If you stayed, thanks for listening and I hope this helps you make better use of your local library.      

#writing #books #libraries #got really annoyed helping a patron earlier this week #and the annoyance has been festering #needed to put it somewhere #so why not share it with all of you :P

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

I've got a question.

Tw: Single swear, casual ableism(?), inaccessibility, Christmas mention, divorce.

(I think that covers it.)

I live in an apartment right now, with my family. It's entirely too crowded, I'm getting overstimulated regularly, I have no space on my own, I can barely accss my room, the apartment is makeshift accessible, and I have no way of getting alone time short of somehow mustering energy I don't have to hide in the bathroom. I've also been waiting for a Service Dog in years but I can't get a dog right now because I'm not supposed to be here.

I have to run off during inspections and sometimes take stressed, loud cats with me, which overstimulates me heavily and ruins my entire schedule. (I'm autistic.). We can't currently buy a house because my step-dad somehow accidentally didn't fully finish a divorce, so buying one right now would mess up something with assets. Currently we're just waiting on a Court but with no reference for when we can expect that to be.

I've stayed in the same place for three years which is sucky because my brain has gotten used to a quickly moving environment (literally), + we can't adjust anything to make room for anything because we've adjusted to get basically all we can.

I'm stressed, I'm overstimulated, I'm consistently pissed off with the majority of my family, I'm trapped, and the only release is school, which is also a prison. We don't even have room to put up the Christmas Tree this year, which is extremely important to me but would block my access to the hallway - AKA the bathroom and bedroom.

My family is fine. My brothers can be ignorant, overstimulating, etc. sometimes, but never out of malice. My step-dad is consistently ignorant of my limits as a chronically ill mentally disabled person and makes me feel like crap on a semi-regular basis, but my mother usually comforts me and counters his claims. He also seems to prioritize his own wants over my needs a lot, adding to the pain of being here. He's nice, but this stuff pisses me off consistently, leading to overstimulation, trying to talk to him, him enforcing his believes, then loop.

Am I in a traumatizing environment? I realized while venting I felt extremely stressed and trapped, like how we had in previous traumatic situations, this time I just know how to get out and it's the fucking world saying no.

I don't know if I'm stepping on anyone's toes, I'm sorry if I am, but yeah. I wanted to ask. Sorry for the long one.

Hello anon! I appreciate you reaching out. Traumatising environments are largely dependent upon the individual and their support system in cases like this. If your current environment is making for feel anxious, scared, hopeless, unsafe, unloved, uncared for, or other feelings that often come with being traumatised, then I would say yes, and understandably so.

Not having your accessibility needs met, having to vacate the home on a whim, and some of the other things you mentioned can be quite traumatising for some, and the way you describe how you are feeling about it lead me to believe that it is something you are internalising in a traumatic manner.

Please know that your current situation does not have to be anyone's "fault," but that also does not mean it is not harmful or traumatising. It sounds as though your family is in an incredibly tight position, and they are attempting to do their best with what they have. Unfortunately, for reasons beyond their control it seems, their best cannot meet your needs at this moment, and I am truly sorry that you find yourself in this position.

I do hope that this answered your question, and that your family is able to move soon so that you all can have a better quality of life.

~Mod Night.

#trauma talks #mod night

[writingforfun0714]

This is my first ever fanfic. It’s for Marvel, a NatxReader fic. I use ‘you’ instead of ‘i’ for x reader fics, so please let me know if that’s not right. A little angst/comfort, mostly a vent fic for me as I struggle with mental illness.

Warnings—depictions of mental illness, emotional distress, Google translator for the Russian nicknames, idk lemme know if I need to add more

**Everyone experiences mental illness differently and each diagnosis is different. This is just how I experience OCD, anxiety and depression, having been diagnosed at 16. I am not a doctor and mean no offense to anyone else suffering. If anything is offensive, please let me know and I will remove, thank you**

Comparison

It’s been a little over 5 months since you met Natasha. You’d never done a proper relationship before, having had your first kiss at 19. You know that no matter what, relationships thrive on honesty and truth. But you didn’t feel that applied to you. You’re mentally ill. That’s what the doctor had told you at a routine check up when you were 16. You had anxiety and depression the doc said. Then, at 18, you were diagnosed with obsessive compulsive disorder or OCD. Those all seemed like deal-breakers since you knew the stigma of mental illness is that people fear/avoid those with mental illness, so you decided to keep those little details to yourself and…well, the more time passed, the easier it was just to keep it from her.

For the past week or so, you felt yourself slipping. You didn’t know why it started. One day, it was so hard to get out of bed and do work. Even though your girlfriend is the Black Widow, you are not an Avenger. You work as a freelance artist, currently working on 2 children’s books. According to Natasha, that was one of the things she liked about you. She loved anything you showed her from finished pieces to sketches that never see the light of day. She liked hearing about all the normal things you do during your day or about stories from your past. Of course when you first met, you never went into too much detail, only giving her enough information to cover the basics and make it seem like everything is ok. You told her about your favorite animated shows and your childhood pets. It all seemed normal…you did a good job of making sure of that. But you never told her of the pain you endured. How could you?-When she and Yelena told you all about their experiences in the Red Room. You couldn’t possibly tell them you’re so broken just because your parents divorced. How can that compare to what they went through? You have no right to act the way you do, which makes you feel even worse.

You didn’t want to feel like a burden by unloading your petty problems on your girlfriend, so you did what you always do. Stay silent. But Natasha is a professionally trained spy. Not much gets by her. So when she saw you standing in the kitchen, she decided to stay quiet and watch to see what you’d do.

You sigh. It’s nearly 3am and you couldn’t sleep so you contemplated getting something to eat, since you had just kind of picked at your dinner. Not that Nat isn’t a good cook, but you just didn’t feel like eating. Instead, you decide to get a glass of water. You use the sink to fill the glass and chug the water all in one drink. Once you finished, you put the cup in the sink and wipe your mouth, not noticing Natasha watching you from the dark hallway that leads to the bedroom.

“Y/N?” You suddenly hear her voice, making you jump. You look up and see the redhead walk out of the shadows and into the dimly lit kitchen. You sigh with relief when you see her.

“Jesus Nat, you scared the hell out of me,” you sigh as relief washes over you and a small, crooked smile spreads across your lips. Seeing that she doesn’t return the gesture like she normally does causes concern to start filling you up.

“S-Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up-“ You apologize, thinking that’s what’s wrong, but she shakes her head.

“No..No you didn’t wake me. I saw you weren’t in bed,” she explains. You nod.

“Thirsty,” You comment, glancing down at the empty cup in the sink. She nods and glances away, biting her lip as if she’s debating with herself. Now you’re confused.

“You ok?” You ask raising a thick, black eyebrow at her. She looks at you and nods.

“You know you can talk to me about anything…don’t you?” She suddenly asks, her voice…almost unsure, which really throws you. You’ve only seen Nat let her walls down completely twice. Once telling you about her past with the Red Room and the other talking to you about her hopes for us. You blink in surprise and confusion.

“Uh-y-yeah Nat. Of course I know that,” You tell her, though you don’t look at her. You’ve never been good at lying. Not that you were lying, but you didn’t feel that you could.

“Because we’ve been together for a while now-“ Nat begins.

“A while?” You ask, raising your eyebrow. She nods.

“Yeah. 5 months is a while,” she says and you nod, glancing at her.

“And…well..I think I know you well enough to know when something’s going on,” she tells you and you suddenly feel a chill run down your spine as fear grips you. Anxiety starts flooding your mind. You feel your stomach twist and clench nervously.

“I’m fine-“ You immediately respond, though you look more like a deer caught in headlights.

“Y/N-“ She says, moving towards you.

“Nat-please-“ You plead with her. She gives you a worried look. The concern and love in her emerald green eyes is almost too much.

“Don’t look at me like that,” You tell her, turning, shaking your head, shutting your eyes so you don’t see anything. You use your right hand to brace yourself, grabbing the granite countertop, trying to keep your breathing steady. You had a tendency to fold rather quickly, so you were determined to try and salvage…whatever this conversation was.

“I’m just…tired, that’s all,” You admit truthfully, letting a small sigh escape your lips at the word ‘tired’.

“Then you should be with me, in bed, sleeping,” she tells you.

“I know-“ You reply.

“So?” She asks, pushing you. You send her a look.

“Tasha-“

“Talk to me Y/N, you think you can just keep avoiding this-“ Nat tells you as she walks over to you and cups your cheeks in her hands, forcing you to gently tilt your head up to look at her.. You’re rather short at a mere 5’ 1” and lanky so even though Nat is also kind of short, she’s still about 2 inches taller than you, and she’s definitely stronger than you. You feel tears form in your *eye color* eyes that seemed to have dulled since starting to slip.

“Talk to me detka,” she whispers. You feel the warm tears start to slip and roll down your cheeks and onto her hands.

“I’m sorry—I’m sorry Nat—I’m so sorry—“ You start crying. Worry and concern wash over Nat and she quickly pulls you into a tight hug, wrapping her strong arms around you.

“Sshh, sshhh, it’s ok…you’re ok. I’m here for you. I’ll always be here for you,” she assures you, but the shattered, broken part of your mind doesn’t believe her. You wanted to believe her of course, but…after all the betrayals you’ve gone through, trust seems impossible. You shake your head as you tremble, clinging to the redhead, afraid to let go of her.

“Mm-mmm,” You shake your head, “everyone leaves…eventually. It’s my fault. It’s always been my fault. Didn’t want you to leave me…I’m sorry…I’m sorry—I’m clingy-I don’t mean to—I’m sorry—I’m sorry-“ You cry, though you press your face against her chest/shoulder so your words sound a bit muffled.

“I’ll never leave you moya lyubov’, never,” she assures you, rubbing soothing circles on your back. You remember something similar happening in school. You were probably in 6th or 7th grade.

“I’ll never leave you Y/N, don’t worry,” You heard her voice echo in your head. Honestly ever since she left you for those other kids…you’d never been the same. That was one of your last big mental breakdowns. The day you realized she was a liar. Sabryna. LIAR!!!

Once you two were best friends, having met in 3rd grade. You’d already had a best friend, Lia, but the addition had made the Dynamic Duo into the 3 Musketeers. But in 6th grade, Lia left the 2 of you to hang with the popular crowd. She decided we weren’t good enough for her. That you weren’t good enough for her. She was one of your first friends ever so that mentally broke you just as much as your parents’ divorce. That was when Sabryna lied to you, saying she’d always be there for you. Then high school happened and you supposed you shouldn’t have been surprised, but when she started ditching you for her choir friends, your already fractured, broken mind couldn’t take it. You spiraled for a long time. After managing to use drawing and art to pull yourself out of it, you met Natasha.

You realize you’re getting Natasha’s nightshirt all wet with your tears and you realize how hard you’re actually clinging to her. You immediately back off, Nat easily letting her arms drop, and you sniffle, wiping your eyes. You thought you could trust your best friends, who you thought were your sisters, but you couldn’t. What’s different that Natasha wouldn’t leave you too?

“Sorry-“ You apologize.

“You don’t have to apologize for anything-“ she assures you. She wants to embrace you again, but when she sees you back away, she stops herself. She doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but she doesn’t know what else to do. When Yelena would break down, especially from nightmares, physical reassurance was the best way to snap her out of it, so Nat doesn’t really know what else to do.

“I know you don’t wanna talk about it-but just know..I will always be here for you. No matter what. I promise,” she says. She reaches in her pocket and pulls out a small folded strip of paper.

“Here,” she tells you. You look at her and see she’s offering the strip to you. You take it tentatively and carefully unfold it to see it’s a photo strip of a young Natasha and Yelena. Nat is probably about 11 or 12 and Yelena is about 6. The two girls are smiling happily. Even as a young girl, Nat dyed her hair, which is a bright blue with her natural red roots starting to show. Your eyes widen.

“I gave that to Yelena the night we got separated. She sent it back to me when we had to take down the Red Room,” she says. You find yourself smiling at the young widows. You begin to hand it back when the red-head shakes her head.

“You keep it. I know it’ll be safe with you,” she tells me giving me a relaxed but confident smile. She…trusts you with something so precious to her.

“I..I’m sorry-“ You tell her.

“I told you-you don’t have to-“ she begins to tell you, but you shake your head, cutting her off.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” you explain and she blinks but nods at you.

“Can..can I ask why you didn’t tell me?” Nat asks you carefully. You think her question over, debating on whether to tell her or not. She looks like she genuinely wants to know. You turn away from her.

“It’s not that I wanted to keep secrets or anything. I wanted to tell you…but I couldn’t,” you tell her.

“Why?” She asks.

“Because Nat-…there’s nothing I could tell you that would…justify my feelings. The Red Room alone is more than anyone should have to go through. I couldn’t tell you because…I’m weak. I should be able to handle normal, everyday things like a normal person. But I couldn’t. I’ve always been weak,” you tell her. You hear her almost silent footsteps approach you and you feel a comforting, strong hand on your shoulder.

“You’re not weak Y/N. I think I understand now,” she tells you, “but normal, everyday life situations are hard. Everyone, even the Avengers, struggle with it sometimes. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Just because I’ve had it worse than some, I know there will always be someone that’s had it worse than me. That doesn’t mean the trauma I went through wasn’t real. That doesn’t mean your trauma isn’t real,” she assures you.

“Being abandoned is one of the most intense, painful experiences we go through,” she says, “it doesn’t matter what caused those feelings, but those that have felt abandoned understand what it’s like.”

“But you are strong Y/N. Do you hear me? You’ve always been strong. You’ve dealt with this for so long…I wish I could’ve been there for you, and I’m sorry if I made you feel like you couldn’t come to me when you need me,” she apologizes. You shake your head and immediately jump into her, hugging her tightly. She chuckles and squeezes you back.

“You never did. It’s..just been…really hard…all by myself,” You tell her.

“Well you’re not alone. I’m here. I’ll always be here for you. Always,” she says.

“Really?” You ask timidly. She chuckles and runs her fingers through your thick, wild, shaggy hair.

“Really Y/N,” she replies and kisses the top of your head. You yawn simultaneously.

“C’mon, let’s go back to bed,” she says and you nod, glancing at the clock. You hadn’t realized how much time had passed and the emotional conversation has left you drained. Nat lets you lean on her and takes most of your weight as you two walk down the hall and back to bed.

#marvel #black widow #Natasha Romanoff #nat x reader #angst/comfort #natasha x reader #first fic #reader x natasha romanoff #fanfic #marvel fanfiction

[fucktherain]

12 April 2024 (Fri) 1:14 pm

ENTRY II

Good afternoon. I’m still really ill. At this point I’ve got a wet towel (that was supposed to be cold but my body heat has made warm) draped on my face and I’m praying to God that this will end soon. I am even considering believing in the divine if I get better. I’m really hungry, but I’ve lost my appetite. I want to eat fresh fruits to feel cooler, amongst other necessary groceries I need / that I’m running out of. I’ve also got a package I need to pick up at the concierge but I really can’t bear the thought of going out. I don’t want to do my makeup (yes I’m quite self conscious and I feel like I look quite bloated) to go out, but I also don’t want to go out bare-faced (even though I know nobody cares). The concierge and the nearest supermarket (Waitrose) are literally like within 2 minutes walk (basically downstairs from me), but I’m feeling absolutely horrible. I’ve showered last night, but I feel so hot and uncomfortable. I’m sorry I’m complaining again, but I have to get it out of my system. I feel like I can’t complain to anyone else in my life because.. who wants to listen to someone complain? And won’t take help? Like, what can you say to that person? I don’t want to inconvenience anyone, and I know it gets irritating, so this is my place to vent.

Possible solutions is to force myself to go out. Get myself together and get what I need, though it’ll exert myself (I can barely get up without feeling faint – I felt like I was about to pass out a few times these past 3 days) and probably feel worse off. Or, I could get an uber delivery from a supermarket and have it delivered right to my door, but I’ll still have to go out because I have a package I need to retrieve. And also, quality of the groceries may be poorer (they don’t care about the quality of what they’re grabbing). I don’t know. But all I know is I’m in so much pain. My throat has gotten really, really sore as well. The first 1 or 1 and a half days it was fine, but now it hurts to swallow and I have green / yellowy phlegm. Yes, gross, but that’s what’s happening.

Also, the other night, I was thinking about how my period’s been a few days late and I got really paranoid. I did a test and I’m fine. Thank god. I’m not pregnant. It would’ve just been absolutely the cherry on top. I probably would’ve really tried to off myself a that point. Sorry for the suicidal joke. I really need to get better with less self-deprecating statements. 

I feel like I need so many things. I bought some makeup to try to make myself feel better, and it’s arriving tonight. But the essentials - like a face ice pack, fuck. I need it. I’m actually heating up so much. This illness feels like it’s been going on for a week already. Okay. Look on the bright side. Without going through this shit, I probably wouldn’t have resolved to get better. The rain will end. Eventually it has to, some way or another.

–

I just walked to my living room window to check the weather and temperature. I still felt faint. But what’s lifting my mood is that it’s actually a nice day. It’s sunny for once, and the temperature seems to be just right. It’s 19C, but it feels a bit warmer (at least from my flat). I might go out. I think I will. I don’t want to waste this sunny Friday afternoon, and it’ll do me some good to get fresh air. I didn’t realize how stagnant the air was in my flat – especially my bedroom. I kept it dark, windows shut, just me and my blankets in bed. I still feel sick as fuck, but I’m going to try. This is a bigger step today for me. See? The doom and gloom does expire. I just needed to change my perspective and wait. 

4:48 pm

I did my groceries and I retrieved the package. Some issues arose with a second package I’m receiving today but it’s fine now. I got a bit stressed out but at least it’s okay now. After unpacking my groceries, I went out again. Since it’s such a nice day out, and I’m still living a 10 minutes’ walk away from the famous Greenwich Park, I took another leap. I think that’s an improvement. I still feel sick but at least I’m out in nature. It’s a bit windy but at least the sun is out. I still feel simultaneously hot and cold. My goal here is to write as a form of self improvement. With me, I have so many thoughts and when it’s all just rattling around inside my skull, I just go stir crazy because I’m not really processing them. And historically, writing it all down helps because there’s a sort of… logical process to it. I don’t know if anyone else gets what I’m saying. But historically, it’s been helpful for me. Also, I can’t talk to anyone about my problems. The only one that can help me is me. I feel like I’m at a high risk of sounding very cliche. I’m sitting at a bench but I feel really self conscious with all the people walking past me. I think I’m going to move.

7:24 pm

I bought a book and got my second package. At the park, my boyfriend messaged me asking if I was free. I said yes. He told me to go to his. I didn’t want to get him sick, so I asked him if he was sure. He assumed that I got over my illness. Eventually, the conversation got to the point where he said ‘if we don’t talk we’ll fall apart’. I know that. I just felt like he didn’t want me around and that he needed his space. I always want to be with him. I want to talk to him always. I want everything to turn out well. I was just waiting for him. So I got home. I’m still in physical pain. 

But at least today I can say I:

journalled

got out of my flat (for the first time in 3 days)

did my makeup (in less than 2 hours!)

got 2 packages

threw out trash

went to the park

got the necessary groceries

I am proud of myself for setting goals and surpassing them. I honestly thought I’d just be getting groceries and the packages, but I did much more than that. I think my reward for today was the packages. I’m very happy with my purchases. I’m grateful that I have them. I am trying and doing my best, and that is enough. Only I can save myself.

#entries #entry #journal #getting better #suicidal

[exhaustedbutfriendlyghost]

Below this line is something personal and I just need a place to vent.

I basically went the entire pandemic without being sick. Since the pandemic started I have worn a mask everywhere and have limited going out to the essentials. I have disinfected everything I buy. All so I wouldn't get the virus. And I find out today that the mystery illness I've had for the past week is covid. I managed to dodge it for 3 years. I am so upset that I have it now. I gave it to my roommate with a heart condition because isolating is fucking impossible in our one bedroom apartment. I hate this. I hate that the US got rid of protections and precautions. I hate that I got the virus and have no idea where I got it from. I feel so angry and scared and upset. I don't want long covid.

#personal #please do not reblog #please do not repost #i am so fucking upset #being sick is horrible and i hate it forever

[tumblesthroughtimeandspace]

Actually I’m starting to get a little nervous now because the pain in my hands and arms is getting so bad now that I can barely play the guitar and my music school audition is a month away. Usually it’s just in my hands and wrists but last night a New Pain started that’s like a shooting pain from my elbows to my wrists every few minutes along the outside of my arms (like where the bone is). I have a doctor appointment Thursday but that’s just my normal doctor, I doubt she can do anything but refer me somewhere and I’ll have to wait even longer to be seen. I can’t get in anywhere without a referral though so I just have to wait. I don’t even know what’s wrong with me just everything hurts all the time :(

#it’s probably rheumatoid arthritis unfortunately #that’s my guess anyway #if someone is knowledgeable about this I’m happy to give more details about my pain #all I know is that almost every joint in my body hurts #and my heart problems have come back now too #my bedroom is on the second floor and I can barely get up the stairs #I slept 10 hours last night and I’m still exhausted #sigh. sorry to vent I’m just sick of all this. it feels like nothing can be fixed and I’m just going to have to suffer forever #because no one will fucking listen to me #guitar is basically the only thing I had that made me happy and now it just means pain and frustration #vent post #me #disabled #chronic illness #rheumatoid arthritis #actually disabled #undiagnosed chronic illness #neisvoid

[bonkie-barnes]

Spoons

natasha romanoff x gn!reader

word count: 2.1k

warnings: chronic illness, mention of medicine, self deprecating thoughts

A/N: this is me 1000% projecting about my guilt that comes with my chronic illnesses. they're kicking my ass rn. this is a vent fic, but if you resonate with this at all, i hope you enjoy :)

- - -

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The alarm clock on Natasha’s bedside table has been going off for a full minute already. You merely roll over and cover your head with Natasha’s pillow. It smells like her.

You have absolutely no energy to get up, let alone reach across the bed to turn the alarm off. Your head feels heavy and your body aches something terrible.

The list of chores you have to do around the house today sits uncomfortably in the back of your mind. The list of friends who have texted you about making plans to hang out sits there too. The idea of staying in bed all day sounds more and more appealing by the second. You know this because the alarm is still blaring into the otherwise peaceful morning air.

Just as you’re gathering the strength to sit up and turn the alarm off, Natasha walks in. She looks at her watch and her brow furrows in confusion.

“What are you doing, sleepyhead?” she asks you with a little smirk. There is concern in her eyes, though she masks it well.

You’re both fully aware the alarm has been going off for seven minutes straight now.

“Just tired, love. You know how much work it takes to reach over,” you say in a joking manner, hopeful that you can get past this without worrying her too much.

Natasha eyes you suspiciously for a second before giving in.

“How was your workout?” you ask her sincerely.

As she starts rambling about her morning activities, you feel a sense of shame. You’ve barely managed to wake up in the time it’s taken her to complete a full workout routine. Hell, you couldn’t even find it in you to turn the alarm off.

You finally focus on her rant as it comes to an end. Natasha is looking at you expectantly. Shit. She’s asked you a question.

“Huh?” you grunt.

She chuckles before answering, “I asked if you were ever going to get up and get in the shower, stinky.”

You put on a fake smile but fail to meet her eyes, the shame eating you up. It has been a few days since your last shower, but it’s just so hard to find the strength and energy to get up and stand in one place for more than a minute or two.

If Natasha notices the far away look in your eyes and the grimace on your mouth, she doesn’t say anything.

After one of the quickest and most unproductive showers you’ve ever taken, you find Natasha waiting for you in the kitchen. She’s taken it upon herself to make breakfast for you both.

You kiss her cheek and thank her as you sit down at the table. The warm cup of coffee she sets down in front of you is a godsend. The warmth emitting from the cup helps to diminish the pain in your knuckles, if only slightly. You send up a silent prayer to whomever might be listening that the caffeine will help with the fatigue today instead of making you sick.

Natasha sits down in the chair next to you with her own plate. She runs her eyes over you in a scrutinizing manner. She wants to think you don’t notice, but you do.

Clearing your throat in hopes to take her focus off you, you ask about her plans for the day.

“Oh, you know, mostly just busy work. I have a ton of paperwork to get through,” she tells you through an exaggerated sigh. “What about you?”

The list of chores screams at you again. “Mostly just some things around the house. Grocery shopping, laundry, boring shit like that.”

Natasha hums around a sip of her coffee. It surprised you just how much cream and sugar she takes in hers. It’s just one of the many unpredictable things about her that made you fall in love.

“Super exciting. I hate to miss out,” she teases you.

You crack a smile to appease her. Inside, though, you realize just how little she understands. These errands seem so simple to her, when to you, they are the most daunting of tasks.

You’re brought out of your thoughts by Natasha standing up to take her plate to the sink. She comes back to kiss your cheek and let you know she’s going to go get ready, before walking out of the room.

You suspect the amount of housework you’ll get done today will be minimal, so you decide to at least make Natasha some lunch. Maybe it will lessen the disappointment she feels when she comes home to see everything exactly as it was when she left, you think.

Your plan is halted as you’re making her sandwich. The stupid cover on the peanut butter jar is stuck. You can’t open it for the life of you. The guilt comes in like a tidal wave. You can’t even do something as simple as make lunch for her, your brain supplies for you.

Natasha returns from getting ready to see you standing in the kitchen with a glare on your tired face.

“What’d the peanut butter do to you this time,” she jokes.

“I can’t.” Tears well up in your eyes.

She comes up to wrap you in a hug from behind. She softly asks, “What can’t you do?”

“I can’t open the jar,” you mutter softly, feeling overwhelmingly embarrassed.

“It’s okay, love. Let me help,” she tells you delicately before kissing the spot under your ear. She can tell this is affecting you more than usual and wishes for nothing more than to be able to take away your distress.

You mutter a thank you before continuing to make her sandwich. You pack everything into a bag and write a small note to finish it off. You know Natasha loves the little messages you leave her periodically, and nothing will stop you from trying to make her as happy as you can.

Goodbyes are said as you both wander closer to the door. Natasha makes sure to hold you longer and tighter than usual. You don’t comment on that.

The silence that encompasses the room as soon as the love of your life leaves is suffocating. You can feel the exhaustion from purely getting up and getting ready creeping up on you. Logically, you know that you shouldn’t overexert yourself, but the shame is eating you up. Already on a roll, might as well keep on going, you think to yourself.

You go back to your mental to-do list and debate what to start with. The grocery store doesn’t sound terrible. Some sun would do you some good. It’s been a few days since you’ve seen the world that exists outside of your house.

Wandering back to the bedroom to get your phone and shoes, you try to push the fatigue from your mind. In your attempt to block out the tiredness, you fail to recognize the ever-present pain in your joints increasing. It’s only when you sit down and bend over to put your shoes on that you register the feeling. Your hips ache severely; so much so, that you can’t hold your position long enough to get your shoe on your foot.

This seems to be the straw that breaks the camel’s back, seeing as you immediately burst into tears. The pain mixed with your inability to do basic, everyday activities completely overwhelms you as you break down.

There’s absolutely no chance that you’re going to complete this task, let alone all the other ones on your list. You let out a sigh as you stand up and shuffle to your room, phone and shoes forgotten in the living room.

You let the weight of your emotions crush you as you climb into bed and under the covers, your wife’s pillow clutched closely to your chest.

Your tears cease to stop, even as you succumb to the sleep you so desperately wished to hold onto this morning.

- - -

Natasha comes home to an eerily silent house. On any typical day, she would come home to the noise of your favorite show or music softly playing, whether it be from a speaker or from your guitar. Your shared house consistently was filled with life and sound. It was one of her favorite parts of her day; coming home to you in your own element, laughing or singing. You are her home.

This newfound silence has her exceptionally worried. Even on your bad days, there was at least a laugh track coming from the TV or the smell of hot chocolate coming from the kitchen. Now, there’s absolutely nothing. For a split second, Natasha thinks that you may never have come back from the grocery. Her heart rate spikes. The sight of your phone on the coffee table and your shoes strewn haphazardly on the floor puts those worries to rest.

“Darling?” she calls from the entryway. There is no response. She carefully removes her boots and coat before moving through every room in the house, calling out for you softly in each.

She makes her way to the bedroom, lightly knocking on the door as she lets herself in. She sees the rise and fall of your chest and is filled with a sense of relief she didn't know she needed.

"Love? Are you awake?"

You grumble out an answer that could be understood as a 'yes'.

Natasha carefully sits down on the side of the bed that you are facing.

"Can you tell me what's going on?" she requests softly, in fear of upsetting the quiet environment of the bedroom and making things worse.

The tears that started up again when you wife called out the first time get even heavier somehow.

"Oh love, come here."

She carefully gathers you in her arms and rests your head on her chest.

"Does this have anything to do with the peanut butter jar this morning?"

You nod. One of your favorite things about your wife is her ability to observe and understand what you're going through.

"I just can't do anything today. Everything hurts and I'm so, so tired," you whisper, followed by a heartbreaking sob.

"It's okay love. Please don't cry," Natasha whispers back.

"But it's not! It's not okay!" You sit up from her chest to let out your rant. "You've done so much today and I could barely wake up. You work so hard and I should be able to do stuff around the house so you can come home and not have to worry about anything," you finish with a sigh.

Your wife puts her hand under your chin, forcing you to look in her direction. "Love, look at me. Believe me when I say that I don't care about the state of the laundry or if the pantry has been stocked. All I care about is you. All I want is for you to be okay. It's killing me that you feel like this and I can't do anything to take it away from you. What I can do, though, is tell you just how proud I am of you. You are the strongest person I know, and I work with the Avengers."

You giggled at that. Natasha smiles at your small second of happiness.

"Are you sure? Because I was going to get so much done today and I was trying to-"

Natasha cuts you off with a soft kiss.

"My love. Listen to me. All I care about is your health and happiness. If staying in bed and catching up on sleep is what you needed today, then that's all I expect from you. I never want you to hurt yourself trying to do more than you can. We all have limits. It’s okay to need a break some days. I love you and I am so very, very proud of you."

With a long look into her eyes, all you find is love and adoration directed towards you. There's no disgust or disappointment as you had anticipated.

"I love you too," you utter quietly.

Natasha smiles and leaves a long kiss on your forehead. "What if we got some pain killers and some food in you? We can even put on your favorite movie. Does that sound good?"

You nod. Natasha gets up to get you some medicine and to order some food, while you get your favorite movie loaded on the TV.

Later that night, when both your stomachs are full and your wife is obnoxiously singing along to the songs in the movie just to make you laugh, you realize just how loved you are.

You don't know how tomorrow will treat you, or the day after that. What you do know, however, is that Natasha will always be there to support and love you. Your pain level and ability to function is always an uncertainty, but your wife's love will never be.

- - -

A/N: as always, i try to keep it gender neutral. if you find a mistake, please let me know! feedback is appreciated! to all my chronic illness buddies out there: i love you, you've got this :)

taglist: @007giu

#natasha romanoff x gender neutral reader #natasha romanoff x gn!reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff #black widow #black widow x reader #marvel #marvel imagine #my fic #natasha romanoff x reader

[the-weird-kids-next-door]

Clown Comfort -LJ Fic

(tw: mental illness, trauma?, angst)

Crying. That's what Jack heard from your room, as you were inside, loudly sobbing and bawling your eyes out. Jack knocked on your door to ask permission to come in. "Uh...kiddo, can I come in..?" "S-sure...go right ahead..." Jack proceeded to slowly open your bedroom door to see your curled-up, crying form laying on the bed. "O-oh my, are you alright?!" Jack asked, taken aback in surprise at what he was seeing. His friend, sad, barely able to even communicate? "N-no...can I vent to you about it...? S-sorry if it's too much to ask.." you asked him between sobs, sniffling heavily. "Of course kiddo, go ahead!" Jack said while sitting himself next to you on your bed, listening intently. "I-I just feel like a failure and a mistake...like I shouldn't be...be here...I only exist to be a punching bag for everyone else, a joke...I can barely even bring myself to wake up in the morning and get out of bed, I have to force myself to do even basic tasks like eat and shower, I can't care for myself properly...I'm just a mess if I'm being honest...I lash out at people because I don't know what else to do, so no one likes me or wants to stay with me...I can't trust anyone because of my past, my teachers don't want to deal with me, kids my age don't hang out with me...I FEEL LIKE I SHOULD JUST DO THEM ALL A FAVOUR AND KILL MYSELF ALREADY!"

You burst back into tears after you were done speaking, realizing all of what you said was true. You really meant all of that, and you just said it all to him. Jack paused for a moment before responding. "Oh, my...well, you're not a mistake or a failure, and you should be here because there are many people out there who love you and would miss you if you were gone! And if they don't want to deal with you or be your friends, just know that I always will be here to talk to! I get having issues re-trusting others after a not-so-good past, but rest assured there are people, or clowns, that can help you regain that trust! It's okay if you can't bring yourself to do basics tasks or get out of bed or even just wake up, what matters is that you even woke up today at all, whether it was at seven in the morning or one in the afternoon. You still lived to wake up another day, and you can do it again, I believe in you, kiddo...so please, stay here, because even if it feels like no one would miss you, there's always at least one person who would..." After listening to his comforting voice, you hugged him tightly, crying and sobbing into his chest as if he were a pillow. "There there, it'll be okay..." Jack said comfortingly while patting your back lightly. "Thank you, so, so much...I really needed that..." "Anytime, kiddo...anytime.."

#fanfic #laughing jack #comfort #angst #self-insert

[ontheblock]

it’s my mental illness and i get to chose which character is vent through❗️❗️anyway, i have been struggling with writing the ending of the second part of my latest patrick hockstetter request and since this has been sitting in my notes for a hot minute, i decided to post it. enjoy this little story absolutely nobody asked for<3

night terrors

no warnings ig- maybe alcohol

Summer never really was plagued by night terrors the way Morty was haunted by them. Whenever she did have a bad dream as a little girl, her parents let her cry it out unless she came to their room themselves. The rare times someone did come over was when Beth was blackout drunk and Jerry followed the soft wailing of his daughter to pet her head while he listened to her sob story of a nightmare. It never helped that Jerry basically coddled baby Morty whenever he woke up - a desperate attempt to even out the neglectful way they treated her first child because they were kids themselves. But all of Jerry‘s attempts were fruitless. Summer heard Morty whine and whimper almost every night through the drywall, even more so since Rick arrived. It was ironic for her to turn out fine with her mother’s neglectful ways. Jerry should’ve maybe considered listening to Beth more with Morty. Or maybe it was meant to be like this. Poor fucker. If his nightmares didn’t take form of bullies anymore it was definitely the looming danger of acid drooling monsters or aliens smart enough to conquer their planet if a self-proclaimed god in a lab coat fucked with them. Yeah, that sounded terrifying for a child. Or maybe the thing he feared most was more simple and childish - their grandfather who took out threats like that for breakfast. But tonight wasn’t a night like that. Summer didn’t wake up from Morty hitting his bedroom wall out of reflex. It was some faceless nightmare of her own that sent her lurching upright with a struggle for air. Whatever it was, she didn’t remember much aside from Jerry‘s face and a leathery hand reaching for her out of the black abyss surrounding her but she felt the aftermath of a sprinting heart and sweat sticking her tank top to her back. Her throat was dry enough to make her reach out to her empty bedside table. She never put a glass of water by her bed, but then again she never needed it.

Swiping back a stray hair, Summer pushed her blanket off to stand up on wobbly legs. She made her way over to the door, stepping over the creaky floorboard. The hallway was quiet but as she crept down the stairs, Summer noticed the flickering lights of the TV pouring out the living room. She had half the mind to blackmail Morty about watching TV on a school night but she definitely kept the info in the back of her mind for tomorrow’s breakfast as she avoided more creaky floorboards on her way to the kitchen. The moron even turned down the volume.

"Morty, I swear to god. Your nightly water trips are getting on my- on my last nerve."

Summer blinked once, twice to place the voice. The distinct alcoholic slur and the audible frown was familiar to her even in a sleepy state. And surely, it was Rick. Shuffling closer, Summer could peek over the couch‘s back to see her grandpa lounging in his oil stained wife beater, tinkering with a cube shaped hunk of metal. Like this she could see his hands at work, talented fingers coaxing loosened screws into their threads. He hissed a low "me cago en tu madre" when the phillips head slipped from the screw he was working on. Summer could make out the blue mesh of veins under the withered skin on the back of his hand. Rick really did have the hands of a worker - a mechanic or construction worker. They looked nothing like the office worker hands of Jerry, if he had even that. He seemed to sense her presence - if that was even possible - because his head turned to look at who he assumed to be Morty.

"Summer? What the fuck are you doing here?"

What was she doing here? She came for a glass of water but her throat was less parched now and something about her mysterious grandpa reeled her in like a damn fish. She took her bait and ran her clammy palm over the couch cushion by her grandpa‘s neck. "I woke up, obviously. I had a nightmare. No big deal." Her eyes pointedly stayed on Rick‘s hand holding a screwdriver or the coffee table with half a bottle of whiskey standing next to Rick‘s feet that he casually propped up onto the wood but she never met his gaze. Why was she even this honest? She could make some kind of excuse but it’s been months since her family showed interest in what she was doing. "Nightmare, huh?" Rick echoed her as if to taste the word on the tip of his tongue. Summer wondered if he had nightmares sometimes. She nodded, eyes finally flickering to his face. The TV casted lights and shadows on his old features. Right now he looked normal, not like that crazy scientist with a mean silver tongue that intimidated her the first time they met at the breakfast table. Summer was used to see the hollow green glow following Rick like a fucked up halo or even the zapping blue rays from devices that can both end and create wars. But now the angular features showed a different side. The soft studio lights of some late night show made him look like a regular addition to the family and it helped Summer release her tense shoulders for the first time in a while, like she didn‘t need to be sarcastic or indifferent all the time. A little voice in the back of her head told her that Morty could be his awkward idiotic self so why couldn’t she?

"Why are you up, grandpa?" She leaned her front against the couch back and kept her voice down just in case Morty did wake up again. "I‘m - bergh - well over the age of bed times. This piece of shit is m-more important." Rick averted his gaze and waved the cube in his hand. Summer hummed and reached for it only to have Rick shuffle it to his other hand and hold it out of reach. "Well, what is it? Can it, like, cause mass destruction or something? Or does it contain a totally freaky virus? Or—" Rick shushed his granddaughter and tossed the cube on the coffee table. "Calm your tits, Summer. It‘s- It‘s to cure Granorian crystals. The, the, the-" Rick rotated his hand as if to underline his search for the most simple explanation "-easiest planet to harvest them happens to have the most impure growth." His hand fell into his lap, the other one snatching the whiskey from the table. "You should go to bed. It’s Tuesday." Summer snorted but it sounded off. "Since when are you the responsible grandparent?"

"I‘m not." His gaze locked on the TV again and he knocked back a sip or two of liquor. "Just thought I get one night free of my annoying grandkids." Ouch. Rick delivered both praise and insults in the same gruff tone - not that he had many kind words to spare, save for Beth when he needed to get his way. "What do you need them for? Can’t you just get, yknow, earth crystals?" Rick belched after a deep gulp from the bottle and dismissively waved his free hand in Summer‘s general direction. "Don’t think about it. Do me- just do us a solid; go back to bed, Summer." Rick expected a bit of huffing and a snarky comment before Summer relented and went back upstairs but he saw her unmoving in his peripheral vision. Summer stared down at the couch cushion‘s seam as if it told her whatever kind of questions were important to a girl her age. Probably if that one guy in school liked her or not. Her fingers rubbed over a stain that looked like red wine her mother spilled last Christmas. "I don’t want to. It’s not like I can go back to sleep anyway. Not- It‘s not because of the dream or anything. Just-" Summer stumbled over her words to find any excuse that would save her the embarrassment of admitting she was a little scared to go back to sleep again. She bit the inside of her cheek when Rick cut her off with a long groan. "You really are Jerry‘s kid. You‘re- Y-You know dreams are just- bullshit hallucinatory experiences aaaaall the way up the hippocampus? It’s not- It’s imaginary, Summer. Just your dummy ape brain processing a bunch of shit while you’re asleep." Rick‘s tone was agitated while he gesticulated but he still scooted closer to the left, ultimately creating more space on the couch. Summer didn’t know where dreams came from, she wasn’t interested in it either but she silently rounded the couch to sit down next to her grandfather. Being this close, she would smell the faint whiskey breath and the Old Spice lingering around her. It was nice for once, calming even. "You know, I‘m not staying because I’m scared because that’s totally lame." Rick just grunted in some kind of indifferent agreement but Summer felt the need to clarify her decision even more. "I mean, it’s just a dream. I‘m not a loser like Morty. I don’t piss my own bed. That‘d be totally— gross." Summer turned back to Rick, fully expecting him to not even pay her any mind but when they locked eyes Summer finally shut her mouth. She never saw a look like this one on Rick‘s face. Not even around Morty - who was quite obviously his favorite grandchild and Summer reminded herself that she didn’t care about that.

Right now Rick‘s withered features looked almost soft even though the hard lines on his face didn’t even out at all. Maybe his resting face just looked mean like that - maybe he was frowning for so long that it became the default for Rick. But still, he looked almost fatherly. Summer‘s pathetic little attempt to look tough in front of the most powerful man she knew stirred something dead in his ribcage.

He remembered a tiny Beth sneaking into their old kitchen where Rick was fixing a leak in the sink. A single glance at his wrist watch told him it was time for Beth‘s nap because if Diane didn’t make her take one Beth would be tired and grumpy all evening. He tried to shoo her back to her room but only got a tantrum out of his daughter until he reluctantly set his task aside and laid down on the living room couch with Beth resting on his chest until Diane came back with their groceries.

"Yeah, sure. What - uhrp - Whatever." Rick looked back at the TV and Summer fell into his silence, her back sinking into the soft cushions. She barely followed the plot of whatever Rick was watching. It looked like some 70s war movie with bad explosions and subpar camera quality. Rick didn’t seem to be the type for nostalgia so it probably just happened to be on at this time of night. The dull colors made her lashes feel heavy again and she let her eyes roam the coffee table Rick still used as his footrest. The cube laid by his foot, forgotten until Rick needed to purify his drugs alien crystals. The whisky bottled left a wet little spot on the wood that she knew Rick wouldn’t wipe away. Jerry wanted to replace the table for a week now. Morty‘s latest comics were scattered on the other side of the table. He always left them in the living room because the idiot just has to get distracted two pages in. An unfamiliar pack of Newport Reds Non-Menthol caught her eye and Summer took a quick glance at Rick. If he noticed, he ignored it. Rick did always have the remnants of cigarette smoke on him but Summer never seen him with one before. There was probably a lot that Summer didn‘t know about her grandpa. She wondered how much her mom really knew about him.

The movie crept close to its finale when a warm weight sank onto Rick‘s thigh. He lowered the bottle from his chapped lips to find soft ginger hair draped over his khaki pants. He went still for a moment with his granddaughter‘s head on his lap. This was territory he hadn’t wet his toes in for decades. Rick wasn’t a stranger to the warmth of another body but this was tender and innocent, enough to take him back in time. He downed the last of his whiskey in one gulp and indulged in the hot rush that followed. The credits rolled on the screen while the bottle neck dangled from his bony fingers.

"How drunk are you right now?"

Rick hummed as if he was doing the math in his head before answering. "Wasted." He put the empty bottle on the fuzzy carpet and shimmied his feet off the table without disturbing Summer in her position. Not that he would admit that.

"So in the morning this didn’t happen?"

Rick took his sweet ass time eyeing Summer and weighing out an answer before he gave a low "yeah, Sum-Sum" and looking back at whatever commercial was on. If Rick ever was good at anything it had to be pretending. He could pretend for Summer just this once too.

#rick and morty #summer smith #rick sanchez #fluff #tw alochol

[earthlyemily]

I’m struggling so much financially and honestly just wanted to vent somewhere. I’ve always lived in poverty and I think in my whole life I’ve had maybe 2 years where I didn’t have to stress about money and not be able to buy groceries or pay rent or be put into collections for not being able to make payments etc and that was when I was in college. For at least the past 5 years I’ve been struggling but I never talk about it. I don’t even know where to start haha I don’t even know what it’s like to not stress financially and be in debt. I’ll just start with the first things that come to mind with what I’m owing maybe. So it’s Dec. 23 and rent was due yesterday because we moved into this small suite attached to someone’s house on Nov. 22. It’s $1200 which is so expensive, but also the average price for BC if not even cheaper for a one-bedroom with a yard, utilities included. and no first and last, no pet deposits, etc because this is just short them for 4 months until the end of March because i reached out and asked and they said yes.

After 1 month I already remember why we went into the trailer almost 2 years ago and it’s literally because we can’t afford any other lifestyle. I think that’s the difference between us and some people that live in trailers, vans, etc. like we lived in a mouse & mouse shit infested trailer for 6 months breathing in their feces and urine and having it all over all our belongings. i literally had to take my whole life to the dump and we officially have no food storage because they ruined it all. there were at least 50-60 mice because a few birth cycles happened in the ceiling. I could write a whole post about my experience of living with field mice, but now isn’t the time so for rent, i only had $600 yesterday so that’s what I gave them. thank goodness they were okay with me asking for a few more days to make the other half. but I don’t even know when that’s going to be :(

my etsy shop veganveins has been doing so bad lately for more than one reason, most of my orders are just postcards and stickers, and while I’m grateful for them, that $1-3 profit isn’t going to keep my business going. and it’s so hard for me to work lately. the wifi doesn’t work sometimes for hours and I always get distracted by shawn and the dogs working from home in a small space. I need to get better at my time management. I got up at 8:30 today which is actually early for me so I’m proud of myself. I’m chronically ill and I really need to go get a blood test and see what’s happening because I haven’t gotten one since being diagnosed with graves disease again 1.5 years ago. anyways. i switched to a print on demand method this year for veganveins for some shirts and sweaters because i couldn’t afford to keep ordering shirts in bulk, and it’s honestly been so, so expensive and i barely make any profit. I’m currently owing my t-shirt printer $999 on one invoice (it was originally $2196 so I’ve at least paid half of it) but that was 2 weeks ago and I still need to pay it. Mario, my t-shirt printer has been with me since I started veganveins and I’m so grateful he gives me extensions on paying the invoices. every other t-shirt printer I’ve ever asked has said no. in addition to the $999 there’s going to be another $2200 invoice I’ll be receiving this week for my last order. I think because of the holidays he’s going to give me some time to pay off that too, but the problem is when I have outstanding invoices he doesn’t print new orders for me. He’s closed now until Jan. 4 so I just need to somehow make that much before then.

btw I don’t have a credit card ($8500 all used on veganveins and it got put into collections last march) and I had a fully used $5000 line of credit but I got a debt consolidation loan for $16,000 1 month ago and my payment for that is $167 a month. it fully paid off and closed my credit card and line of credit + $3000 overdraft which is nice. but now I don’t have any extra money except for what comes in. my credit is only 640 which is really bad in canada so I won’t get approved for a new credit card or loan until I build that up, which is going to be a few months of regular payments. so for regular payments, the $167 for the loan is due on Dec. 27. Yesterday the trailer loan which is literally unliveable from what the mice did until we renovate it came out for $260, that’s how much I pay once a month for it on the 22nd. I didn’t have $260 in my account so it got rejected and I got charged a $48 NSF fee. omg if anyone is reading this long i’m shook. i’m genuinely just writing this for myself to process my feelings and in case anyone was curious about my financial situation here you go haha. maybe some of you can relate, maybe some can’t. anyways. so now I somehow have to get $260 in my account for that for when they try to take it out again in the next few days.

another payment that was supposed to come out yesterday but hasn’t, but I’m sure will come out today is our truck loan. they deferred it for 8 months because of covid which was so nice, but we started paying it again 2 months ago. for both those months I called and made my payment a later date and that helped, but there’s barely any service here so when I called 4 times yesterday to try and change the date the payment comes out, I was on hold for 20-30 mins then my phone would disconnect and hang up. so that’s $586 and it will come out today, I have $0.46 in my account right now so it will get rejected and I’ll get charged another $48 NSF fee. this is why being poor always costs more and the banks are always harsher on those who don’t have money. today I’ll try calling again to see if I can ask for it to come out on a different day like january 10 instead, so I can first have time to pay rent and the trailer and also our $190 truck insurance which got rejected from my account 3 days ago, which was another $48 NSF fee. oh and something else i’m so stressed about is CIBC is going to put me into collections on December 28 if I don’t pay $1000, $700 of which is purely their fees. I have a $300 overdraft which they said i have to cover by then and the $700 is literally their $48 fees added up over the past 3 months. I got a text from them today saying my account is over and it’s because an amnesty international $11 monthly donation came out and obvi there’s no money in there, so that’s another $48 they charged. they’ve already given me a month to pay it and don’t want to wait any longer :(

I owe everyone in my family money, my sister $1650, my mom $700 and my brother also lent me $700. none of my siblings have money either and my mom definitely doesn’t so I hate that i had to borrow that much, and it’s literally been months. thankfully they’re so patient but i can’t wait to not owe them that

omg and i can’t even think about the amount of money shawn’s grandma has lent us. she’s genuinely the only reason we haven’t been completely homeless. but it’s a lot. like i don’t even want to say the number on here. she let us use it from her line of credit over the years and we’ve been slowly paying her back, but she lets us go months at a time without making a payment which i honestly hate doing, but have no choice. i’ve felt a lot of shame and guilt about this, but I also know that she genuinely would rather help us than see us suffer.

so i’m gonna talk about a big reason I’m broke this month especially - saving a pig named buster. his rescue cost me $1850 out of pocket that I didn’t have. but otherwise he was going to be killed in 2 days, he was my baby and I loved him so I had to do it. I somehow made $1350 that went towards it but I’m still owing $500, which I just asked for an extension for today until the new year. i’m not really supposed to talk about it but everything I’ve ever posted here has stayed here, so that cost was literally just from me buying the pig off the farmer. myself along with everyone else ive talked to is disgusted that he charged that much, but he wasnt budging and if that’s what it was going to take, of course I’m going to do it. I wouldn’t think twice about doing it for my dogs and Buster was smarter and more affectionate than them. i love him and I’m so happy he was saved. a non-profit organization transported him to a sanctuary and it was my biggest wish come true and the happiest moment I’ve had all year. my eyes are literally tearing up haha i love him so much. i could write a whole post about his neglect but basically he hasn’t had fresh water in weeks, he was only being fed handfuls of mixed nuts, he was constantly dirty in a muddy enclosure with an electric fence that he was always getting shocked on. he never got true love or affection except for when I gave him it. i posted an instagram story about him and asked people to message me and that i needed help, 2 people donated $111 and $120 each, and 2 other people donated $15 and $12. Someone also e-transferred me $20. These 4 donations equaled almost $300 ($277) and I was so grateful for those people wanting to help me help buster. if anyone else wants to help me with the cost of his rescue i still do need help and would appreciate it so much. this feels really weird and vulnerable for me to do and i’m sorry if anyone is annoyed by this post, I just genuinely am struggling and figured if someone does have extra and wants to help, there isn’t harm in that. but i do feel guilty for asking because i know there are so many other people struggling out there that need even more help than i do :(

i haven’t talked about it publically but i guess I will now, this farmer that I bought buster off of is the owner of the organic vegetable farm i was living and working at this past spring and summer. we worked really hard all summer to be able to stay there and park for free in the winter, but this past fall he told us no one was allowed to stay at the farm anymore, including us, so we had to find a new place to bring our 14ft trailer in to live. so that was an unexpected bummer and if we had known we wouldn’t be allowed staying there anymore (despite doing the labour of $1200 a month for free harvesting organic kale, for an off-grid spot he told us was worth $350 a month to park) we wouldn’t have driven 8 hours with the trailer and we would have stayed in the snow in northern BC and sucked it up and lived on the land we got the opportunity to rent this fall. Donna, the woman who is renting the land to us has been the biggest blessing in my life this year. I love her so much. Basically, she’s letting us live on 170 acres for $600 a month. letting us do whatever we want on the land (building a cabin, setting up rainwater catchment systems, having a solar passive greenhouse and a huge garden) LIKE WHAT. we could even open a farm sanctuary if we had money, i wanted to so bad but obviously that dream didn’t even come close to being reality. opportunities like this literally don’t exist in canada, especially not in BC. i cant even process my gratitude, i cry everytime i think about it. when we go back in the spring it’s going to be the beginning of the rest of our life :) i want to rescue so many senior dogs. everything we’ve always wanted to do we’ll be able to do, assuming we have money haha. but i want to have an organic farm and grow veggies to donate to families in need, especially since we live on stolen indiginious land and I see how the goverment actively restricts their access to fresh healthy produce. but anyways by then it was too dangerous to drive 8 hours back hauling a trailer in the snow and it was just easier to stay in the okanagan until the spring. i know the farmer probably doesn’t realize this and he’s also probably struggling financially but not being able to stay at the farm for the winter months we worked for, and buying buster for that price is a big reason I’m in the financial stress I am now so I figured i’d talk about it.

anyways. i think this is long enough and i think anyone reading this gets the point, i’m drowning in debt, my small business is almost costing me more to run and i’m not making nearly enough profit to live, the past few months ive been living off grid (not by choice) and just focused literally on surviving and not freezing and getting water etc and not having service or internet has affected me negatively. there’s internet now in the suite I’m in, it works really good in the morning and not as well at night, like for example tumblr doesn’t work past 5 pm for me to post photos. but ive been in a bad sleep schedule since i got here that i need to change. im sick and i need to heal myself. tomorrow i’ll set my alarm for 7:30. hopefully i make some money today. i got a social media managing job and it will end up being $1000 a month once i do the 3+ hours a day of work which im already feeling like i barely have time for my own basic life tasks. but i can do this.

if anyone reading this wants to help me out a bit, my paypal email is [email protected] or http://www.paypal.com/paypalme/veganveins

and my e-transfer email is [email protected] i have auto deposit so you won’t have to ask a question :)

this is my first time in 7 years i’ve made a post like this or asked for help. i won’t do it again but figured i have nothing to lose. if you read up to here i love you a lot and thank you so much for being here <3

#personal #finances #broke #poor #vegan #small business owner #graves disease #saving animals #off grid #I wonder if anyone will even read this all #debt #life update lol #p

[thespianbooks]

A Court of Nightmares and Starlight //Chapter 4//

(Chapter one) (Chapter two) (Chapter three) (Chapter four) (Chapter five) (Chapter six) (Chapter seven) (Chapter eight) (Chapter nine) (Chapter ten)

(tags: @thron3ofbooks, @df3ndyr, @judexcardanxgreenbriar, @art-e-mis, @herondamnn, @the-third-me, @im-still-trying-here, @emikadreams) 

Starfall was quickly approaching and the whole estate was buzzing with activity and preparations for our upcoming party. After witnessing and observing her first Starfall, Elain fell in love with the holiday. Since moving into the estate and coming up with the idea that we hold the festivities here, she took over planning for the event and made every year a grand celebration. In the years prior, it was always Mor and I that arranged some kind of gathering for the Inner Circle and my sisters at the House of Wind, along with the people of Velaris. Admittingly, I was never any good at it—not that I was obligated to, as Rhys pointed out every year. He made sure to remind me that while I was indeed his wife, as High Lady I was under no obligation to plan extravagant and elaborate parties for our court. I wasn’t the prized and pretty Lady that Ianthe and Tamlin previously tried to make me into. Despite this, I grew to actually enjoy planning some of the details of the celebration with Elain every year. Most of the work was orchestrated and run by her; now Mor and I only gladly assisted her.

With Starfall also being my favorite fae holiday, I couldn’t help feeling a little sentimental every year. My first ever had followed the months I was finally beginning to heal from the events of Under the Mountain; it was also the day I realized I was in love with Rhys. It was like an anniversary of sorts, and I knew the same was true for him. To Rhysand, it was the first he was able to celebrate in nearly fifty years with his friends—his family; when he also started to heal. That night, and every night we celebrated Starfall in the last several years, we danced together until all of our other companions cleared out for the evening. The spirits always seemed to join us as they glittered across the night sky and into early dawn. The beauty of it always inspired me to paint, and over the decade I painted a series of portraits and landscapes depicting whatever Starfall memory resurfaced. Some of them were of the sky itself glittering with the spirits; some were of our silhouettes dancing on the balcony with the landscape behind us, and some were of Rhys’s handsome face with the star spirit that had splattered on it. I often dreamt of the way we laughed that night; how I smiled for the first time in months and the look of awe in his face.

Starfall was undoubtedly our holiday.

This year, however, might be the first I probably wouldn’t get to enjoy myself. Although the symptoms of my illness were now gone, I couldn’t shake this lingering fatigue. I was beginning to worry it would hinder my ability to stay up and dance with Rhys. I held onto that tradition throughout the year, because it was the one day and night, we spent together without having to worry about our responsibilities as High Lord and Lady. This near-crippling fatigue was threatening my one peaceful day of the year.

Lately I was often drained of energy, and in the last week I took regular naps in order to make it to dinnertime. On most nights, I would be thoroughly depleted of any strength, and I knew everyone was beginning to take notice. After falling asleep halfway through our meal and Rhys having to gently wake me up, Cassian tried to cancel our usual morning training sessions—which I refused. Just because I was exhausted didn’t mean I couldn’t keep up with my regular strength training routine. I also noticed that since their return from the mountains, he and Azriel seemed to linger in whatever common room I was in; as if they were keeping a watchful eye on me, even with Rhys glued to my side. True to his word, Rhys reeled in his primal male-bonded instincts after his return. Our mating frenzy ebbed out a couple of days after, and once we integrated ourselves back into our everyday routine, he was definitely more at ease. However, after noticing how spent I was at the end of the day, I could tell a fraction of it returned—as much as he tried to suppress it.

Mor and Amren mostly teased me when I dozed off during the day; the former more often than the latter, and Elain just pushed a slew of different herbal teas at me throughout the day and promised it would help keep me awake. Even Nesta, who rarely left neither her living quarters nor the library, seemed to worry about me and visited me at random intervals throughout the day; sometimes delivering a cup of tea on Elain’s behalf. Though she mostly just took a quick survey of my form and left.

After a few days of this, I became determined not to cause any of them more concern and now did my best to hide my fatigue as much as possible. I forced myself not to take anymore naps, gulped down multiple cups of Elain’s tea, and perked myself up for dinner. Luckily, the nightmares that had recurred for a short time no longer plagued me at night; a small mercy when I was weary and needed the night to re-energize. I knew it all had to do with my previous illness, and I would not allow it to rule over me—especially with Starfall only a day away. At breakfast this morning I demanded Cassian and I resume our normal training session after he tried insisting again that we cancel. In spite of Rhys agreeing with me, I noticed Cassian swear under his breath before reluctantly agreeing as well.

I chose to ignore it at that moment, and the duration of our meal resumed without issue. After the conversation switched from resuming my training, we all began discussing our anticipation for Starfall. Mor theorized that there might be more spirits this year than there had been in several decades, claiming her power of truth revealed it to her in a dream. In true Inner Circle fashion, they all placed their bets on the validity of her claims. Even I placed a bet, hoping in Mor’s favor that there would be a grand star fall unlike any I ever dreamed. In the last ten years, the spirits numbers continued to dwindle, and every year I hoped it would change. After finishing our meals and excusing ourselves from the table, I walked back to our bedroom with Rhys to change into my training leathers.

“Don’t think I’m trying to stop you,” Rhys started once we were inside, “but I feel compelled to ask if it's possible for you to take it easy during your training today?”

I glanced at him, “Why would I do that?” I asked.

He gave me a knowing look, and I rolled my eyes, “Rhys, I’m fine in case you haven’t noticed.”

“Oh I’ve noticed alright, noticed how much you try to hide your exhaustion. Did you forget about our lovely bond, Feyre darling?” he asked as he grinned smugly and I tossed my top at him as I pulled it off, grabbing my training tunic to pull over my head.

“Whatever smartass. I’m fine, I’m just tired from all the party planning with Elain and Mor. Being a High Lady and supervising everything is just exhausting,” I lamented with a dramatic sigh.

He chuckled and folded my blouse, setting it on the bed before leaning against the door frame as he watched me change. “If you’re sure,” he conceded. “Try not to give Cassian a hard time for going easy on you, because you know he will.”

“I can handle Cassian. It's about time I vent some of my frustration on you overprotective Illyrian males,” I said with a grin as I finished dressing.

His smug grin was his only response as I gave him a quick peck on the cheek before leaving the room and down the hall that led to the training pit. Cassian was already waiting for me, arms crossed over his broad chest and I noticed Azriel standing in the distance. While he seemed to be observing Elain as she clipped fresh flowers in the greenhouse, I knew he was actually taking it upon himself to keep a close eye on two of the Archeron sisters.

“Well since you’ve been so damn sleepy lately, we’re going back to the basics today,” he grinned and held his palms up, motioning me forward.

“I have not,” I insisted before raising a brow, “basic punching forms? Really?”

“Look, I’m not going to keep battling with a pre…pretty sick female,” he corrected himself, eyes narrowing in a cringe at his own choice of words.

I stared at him blankly, moving my hands to my hips, “Wanna tell me what’s going on?” I demanded.

He shrugged simply, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“‘Pretty sick female’?” I posed

He shrugged again, “I stuttered.” He held his hands up, motioning me to advance.

I rolled my eyes and began landing blows into his palm, keeping a steady pace for a few minutes before I felt that glimmer at my core. I stopped, blinking as it sparkled in my abdomen for a few seconds and suddenly stopped. I hadn’t felt it in almost a week, and thought it finally faded away along with my other symptoms. It felt...stronger this time, as if it were a gut-shattering feeling trying to warn me of something.

I shrugged it away and re-positioned my fists and stance, looking to Cassian, who was frowning at my hesitation. “What was that?” He asked.

“Nothing,” I promised.

“Feyre, I-”

“It was nothing, Cassian.” I snapped, motioning for him to let me resume.

His frown deepened before he slowly raised his hands, palms facing in my direction. I landed a couple more blows before the world around me suddenly spun. I didn’t have time to reorient myself, everything twisting away from me and I only knew that I lost my footing when a pair of strong arms caught me.

Spinning, spinning, spinning.

I heard voices calling out my name, but couldn’t register who they belonged to as a high-pitched whine resounded loudly in my ears—drowning out everything and everyone, my world still whirling in circles. I closed my eyes, willing everything to settle for a minute. I briefly heard Rhys’s voice, but couldn’t discern his words as I opened my eyes again. I was able to see his face for a few seconds before darkness edged in around my vision; taking over completely a second later.

X

I blinked slowly, everything blurry as I regained consciousness. It took me a second longer to register my surroundings, realizing I was laying on my bed and I could hear Rhys’s voice outside the bedroom door—giving orders. I sighed, realizing what happened out in the training pit and slowly sat up; afraid of the dizziness returning. I paused as my stomach churned and I groaned, fighting the oncoming queasiness.

Rhys, sensing I was awake, walked into the room and straight to my side, “I called Madja, she’s on her way,” he said, brushing the hair from my face.

I swallowed with a cringe, “You didn’t have to do that,” I argued weakly, resting a hand over my stomach in an attempt to settle it.

“You fainted Feyre. You’ve been tired, no—exhausted, all week. Before that, you were sick. Something’s not right,” he reasoned desperately, kneeling beside me and placing a hand over mine.

I was about to argue again, but I felt that oh-so-familiar flicker in the pit of my stomach. It fluttered wildly between us, like a heartbeat—my heartbeat, pounding beneath his touch and through our bond. I let out a shuddering breath, my stomach roiling violently in protest and I cringed, trying not to let it overwhelm me.

Alarmed, Rhys straightened, but before he could say anything, I was up and rushing for the bathing room with him on my heels. He pulled my hair back in time as I vomited into the toilet, sobbing a bit between each heave. He rubbed gentle circles on my back as I wretched. When my stomach finally settled and the wave of nausea ebbed, he flushed the toilet for me as I caught my breath and leaned back against his chest. He held me like that for a minute as I sniffed and regained my strength, rubbing my arms lightly.

“Better?” he asked quietly.

I nodded and sighed deeply, slowly sitting upright with his help, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

He cupped my chin lightly, his eyes meeting mine, “You have nothing to be sorry for, Feyre. It's not your fault you're sick,” he said before standing and helping me to my feet.

He kept a hand on the small of my back as we walked back into the room and I frowned. It made no sense why my symptoms returned so abruptly. “I really thought I was fine. I mean, I felt a lot better,” I tried to explain as I sat on the bed. 

Rhys turned his wrist over, summoning a damp washcloth from whatever magic storage he usually summoned from, and motioned me to lie down. “Just relax for now. Madja will be here shortly and she’ll examine you,” he said.

I sighed in resignation, laying back and moaning in relief as he pressed the washcloth on my forehead. I smiled in gratitude and he returned it with a solemn nod. I gripped his free hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

“Don’t look so grim,” I said. “I’m just sick, nothing more.”

He nodded again, forcing a smile to his own lips that didn’t reach his eyes, and I knew he was in full mother hen protective mode. I could see his tense shoulders, truly ill at ease over my health. He would probably remain that way for the duration of whatever illness was plaguing me, just like he always did when I was on my cycle.

I paused as the thought suddenly occurred to me. I made sure my shield of adamant was still up, knowing how vulnerable it was lately, and checked over my mental calendar.

I was late. Very late.

As a human, as a high fae, I was never late for my cycle. I remembered briefly panicking when I realized I hadn’t gotten one after being made, before learning and actually suffering through my first. In educating me about what a fae cycle entailed, Madja also taught me how to discern between the symptoms of my cycle...and early pregnancy. Nausea, fatigue...and a missed cycle. I quickly ran through my memories of the last few weeks; while I had experienced a certain level of fatigue during my cycles, they were never to this extreme. The nausea spells I equated to my nightmares or whatever mysterious illness I thought I had, but now after just realizing how late I actually was…

Was I finally pregnant?

Since his return, Rhys still pointed out that my scent remained off. At first, we both wrote it off as part of my illness, but it was all starting to make sense. If I was pregnant, if our child was actually growing inside of me, it would explain why my scent was different. I tried not to react as I met Rhys’s concerned gaze and squeezed his hand again, willing my galloping heart not to give me away.

“Who were you talking to outside?” I asked, motioning outside our door.

“Cassian and Mor. They, and Azriel, saw you go down and Cassian caught you before sending Mor to call for me,” he explained, moving the cloth to my cheek. “They’re all worried about you.”

“You should let them know I’m okay when Madja gets here,” I suggested, genuinely wanting him to reassure the others and their concerns over my well-being.

“I’m not leaving your side, Feyre,” he said firmly.

“I’m not a child Rhys. I don’t need the High Lord standing idly by as the healer examines me,” I argued.

His overprotective behavior also made sense now. We were mates, of course his primal instincts would make him aware of my pregnancy before he was. If I was pregnant; I needed to confirm it with Madja before I revealed my suspicions. If I told him that I might be pregnant, he would be prematurely ecstatic. We both had ten long years of yearning for our first-born child, and if I was somehow wrong about this, if I raised both of our hopes up only to be told I wasn’t actually pregnant...I wouldn’t be able to bear the disappointment.

I felt his reluctance and he forced a smirk as he brought my hand up to his lips, “As my High Lady commands,” he said quietly, and I could hear the silent ache behind his words.

I moved my hand to cup his cheek, “You know I’ll be in great hands when she gets here. Let everyone know I’m feeling a little better, and when Madja finishes examining me then I’ll fill you in. It won’t be anything serious,” I promised.

I was either sick with some ridiculous faerie ailment, or pregnant. I hoped to the Mother it was the latter as we heard a delicate knock on our bedroom door. Rhys was immediately up and went to answer the door; I sat up as he led her inside.

“Hello again my lady,” the older female greeted, her dark eyes sparkling lightly as she set her healer’s bag aside.

I returned her friendly greeting with a smile and looked over at Rhys, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he hesitated in the doorway. He gave me a once-over and met Madja’s gaze as she waited for one of us to give her an order. I cleared my throat and Rhys looked at me again, I brushed his dark shields lightly and he let them down for me.

I’ll be alright. Let the others know that everything’s fine and that I’m being seen now.

I saw him hesitate for a fraction of a second before he nodded. “I’ll be in the sitting room,” he said, almost a warning before he finally left the room.

“What seems to be the problem dear?” Madja asked, as I sighed deeply. “The High Lord informed me that you collapsed, and you’ve been rather ill. Would you care to elaborate?”

“I uh, actually,” I fumbled over my words, unsure of how to even say them now. The healer was patient as she took my wrist gently to check my pulse; her usual first step in her examinations that allowed me a moment to gather my bearings.

“I’m late for my cycle,” I managed. “A few weeks ago, these awful nausea spells started and lasted a few days, and I’ve been so exhausted. Exhausted isn’t even the right word for it; I have no energy. This week was the worst of it, and then today…” I trailed off before glancing down at my stomach briefly, “I realized I’m a week late.”

The older female nodded, her dark wrinkled fingers releasing their gentle hold on my wrist and motioned me to lay down, “Have you experienced any sensitivity, or swelling, in your breasts? Unusually frequent trips to the bathing room?” she asked, her hands moving to my blouse before meeting my gaze for permission to further her examination.

I nodded as I thought it over, her delicate hands rolling my tunic up to expose my abdomen. I blushed as I recalled Rhys’s recent comments about my breasts. He often admired them, but after our reunion last week he happily noted that they seemed more...endowed than he remembered.

“I think my breasts are a little swollen, but they haven’t been sensitive,” I admitted. Her hands now palpated my abdomen gently and I gasped as I felt that glimmer return. She must have noticed it as well because her hands immediately halted.

“A-Also that, I’ve felt that a few times now, and right before I fainted it was strong. Stronger than I’ve ever felt it before, and the next thing I knew the world was spinning,” I explained with a frown.

The female’s dark features seemed to brighten as she grinned and took my hand again, moving it to rest on my abdomen, “My lady, that feeling is your youngling. I don’t need to finish my examination to confirm that you are indeed pregnant.”

I gaped at her, glancing at my hand on my stomach, “W-What do you mean...?” I choked.

She chuckled lightly and placed her hand over mine, “You and the High Lord have a powerful mating bond. These bonds are rare today, but one as strong as yours allows you to have a keen sense for one another. Back in our primitive history, there were no tests or examinations to confirm a pregnancy. If a mated female was pregnant, once her youngling developed enough in the womb, her bond would alarm her and her mate that they had been successful in producing offspring. Over the centuries, this innate ability dampened to a dull and gentle glimmer,” she smiled as she explained. “It is rare even now, but in the case of a powerfully mated High Lord and High Lady, it is there. Congratulations, you are pregnant.”

I exhaled a long breath without realizing I had been holding it in throughout her speech. My eyes burned as I looked at my stomach again, my fingers brushing my skin lightly as I felt the flutter pulse through me again. After a decade of trying; of being disappointed year after year and both of us dreaming and longing for the first-born son the Bone Carver showed me all those years ago, the moment was finally here. After ten years of loving Rhysand, of almost losing him forever, I had a piece of him with me.

His child, our child, was growing inside me. The beautiful little boy who looked like an exact replica of his father; who I saw in my dreams and longed to cradle in my arms would finally arrive. My heart fluttered at the thought of Rhys holding this child, of his warm smile and loving eyes. I couldn’t help but sob at the idea of it all, my mind immediately scrambling for ideas on how I would reveal the news to him. I wanted nothing more than to surprise him, and I was glad I had convinced him to step out while Madja examined me. The effect would have been lost had he been hovering over me as the healer worked.

No, I would deliver the news the same way I had gifted him the vision of our son on that Winter Solstice we decided to start a family. This time however, I would finally get to announce the arrival of our son on Starfall.

#feysand #rhys x feyre #feyre cursebreaker #feyre archeron #feyre darling #feyre x rhysand #feyre #rhysand #feyreandrhysand #high lady feyre #high lady of the night court #high lord of the night court #high lord rhysand #illyrian #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acofs #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of war and ruin #a court of wings and ruin #a court of dreams #a court of silver flames #a court of frost and starlight #a court of nightmares #court of nightmares #court of dreams

[pandemiclaughter]

Rambling about MIL her anxiety, parkinson’s

Some of the most frustrating conversations are with those who are in the very beginning stages of dementia, super stubborn, riddled with anxiety, angry, and sprinkled with some passive aggressiveness on top for extra fun.   Then I’m going to make this communication even more difficult by letting my rambilng ADD tell you about these difficult encounters. 

(warning---you may just want to skip this one---if you do, but want to have an idea of what this is about here’s the basics of the post:  

The basic facts from this crazy non-linear explosion of words is my MIL believes she truly is going to run out of oxygen to breathe in the air. And how she went from telling me she has never had anxiety to she has lived with anxiety her whole life.)

MIL (in her 80s with Parkinson’s) does not have good balance, she can not stand for many seconds without support. She is always freezing.  When we first moved in here she would run blow dryers on her bed all night. She said it was to keep her warm. But now through much more dedection---they were also white noise to help with her anxiety. 

So we have moved to no longer using the bed as potential kindle.  It took her a few months to learn to use an app for white noise sound (damn when they upgrade the app---she stopped using it and went back to a CD--but was mad because it was a different CD player). We got google dot to work for a bit, but then she would tell it to play things with a limited time.  She also refuses ocean sounds--because ocean sounds make you pee.  (I get how the sound of a trickling stream may make you want to pee--but crashing waves---dear God, how forceful is your urine?)

So back to her freezing.  We got a nice little heater in there, with a thermostat and a timer.  Hubby went and turned “off” the vents--(these vents are from the 70s and they do not really close). One vent under the bed, the other behind the dresser.  Both I would have a really hard time getting to. 

Hubby and I came in the other night to help her with her sleep sounds again.  And he notices her vents are open full.  

First we asked her how---because with her balance---(We’ve had one fall since we’ve been Coronateened--thank GOD she didn’t hurt herself). So she’s like, of course I opened them---I didn’t have enough oxygen in here. 

Wait---her room is the largest room in the house---master bedroom with a door to the outside, windows, regardless--run out of oxygen--how do you run out of oxygen---she’s not in a sealed box. She continues to tell us that the oxygen runs out at night and she can’t breathe.  Hubby and I try not to laugh--explain she will never run out of oxygen in the air--and the air conditioner is not bringing in more oxygen. We ask her please, if she wants her vents opened or closed to come get us--because we really don’t want her falling.  (I still can’t figure out how she got them opened.)  This is the same woman who refuses to walk on grass--because she will fall and refuses to walk down the driveway--without someone watching her.  She’s riddled with these weird beliefs (it runs in the family--hubby’s sister is afraid to eat meat if the white and the dark meat have visibly touched).

Later, another time, I try to talk to her about her episodes at night and in the conversation explain they might be anxiety attacks she is feeling.  I ask her what has worked for her in the past for her anxiety attacks. Now this is the same woman who usually gets excited about being ill--but she hates that I use the word anxiety. 

MIL: I have never had an anxiety attack. I don’t have anxiety. 

Me: Ok, but didn’t you used to take Xanax daily? 

MIL: Yes. 

Me: Ok, why did you take Xanax daily?

MIL: That’s because I taught school and kids are stressful. 

Me: Ok, but didn’t your doctor just recently stop filling your prescription? Just in the last year?  (she’s in her 80s)

MIL: That’s because he said it’s not good for my health and I could fall.   (ok--I know kids are stressfull--but I’m pretty certain that you weren’t still stressed years after teaching---but I don’t go there.)

Me;  So was there anything else that you did to help when you were more stressed out?  I mention how she was doing well after starting Zoloft, but over the last couple of weeks she hasn’t been sleeping, she seems on edge,  maybe wanted to talk to the doctor about upping the dose.  (What I really want to tell her is I need you to get your anxiety in check, because it’s starting to set off my anxiety something awful.  We have had conversations about my anxiety it has helped opened up some discussion--and also that her 3 children all have it too.  i know some of this is people just didn’t talk about anxiety before---or I guess she didn’t?)

(this is the sweet lady that only gets mad at me---well and her oldest daughter. Before we moved in, I had never heard a harsh word--I knew she got mad at her oldest daughter, but since I have moved in---she really saves getting mad for me instead of her oldest daughter. her relationship has gotten better with her oldest---and I try to remember that when she gets mad---I would love for someone to be the buffer between me and my Mom, if this was my Mom, so I could enjoy having a better relationship.  My husband---the baby of the family and only son of an Italian family---he can do no wrong---still to this day.  If she is even slightly upset with him---she will still direct it towards me or his sisters)  I digress.  

MIL:   SHAUNA--- I HAVE HAD ANXIETY MY WHOLE LIFE, I just live with it. And I never needed more than under a mg of xanax---i’m already on 50 mg and that’s just too much medicine.  And I’ve never had an anxiety attack.  (ok---at least we have moved from never having anxiety---that was quick) 

(all who have known her feel like she took xanax more than once a day---she used to be zoned out and chill a lot--we have really wanted to see if edibles could help--I know I’ve seen some great things with the parkinson’s too---and if I am right---it could be a mixed bag with anxiety--becuase it can increase the paranoia---but maybe that’s a full edibile?---maybe the CBD only stuff?  I need to look into it more---we still live in the most strict---weed is bad state). But willing to help her too--if it will help. 

Me:  (I give up even trying to compare/contrast Xanax to Zoloft dosages.) Have you ever thought of deep breathing when you feel like there is no oxygen in the room?

MIL: That won’t work.

As this cycle of conversation contitued she opened up to hearing about breathing exercises, tells me about how she has used them before and used to have a CD on them,  and then was shocked again about the fact they could be on youtube.  

She’s always shocked we tell her she can find things on youtube.  We possibly always take it a bit too far hubby tells her how she can learn to make a pipe bomb or find naked old men to watch, if she wanted.  I can’t think of all the crazy things hubby tells her she could do on youtube. I’m surprised we haven’t had a visit from the governement. 

 She has learned to do her daily Parkinson’s workouts and other therapy through youtube. I also connected her with a therapist online (she swore she didn’t need one of those--but thank goodness for them.).  I will have to remember their name--great company and really reaching out to the elderly during this pandemic time.  But they seemed like a good company before this time---I’m glad. They also check in with the patient’s family members to see how they are doing and relay things back and forth and also help the children with their aging parent. 

Then we are back to square one---she doesn’t want help with anything---so showing her these breathing videos---that takes a couple more days. 

I forget how much time she takes.  And sometimes I just need a break, so me needing a break extends some of this time too. And how did you teach school, but also believe you can run out of oxygen in a large, ventilated room?  I get these worries aren’t logical---but sometimes they just hurt my brain. 

Rambling end for now. 

#anxiety #dementia #parkinson's diease #aging parents #ADD

[lavenderfawnmind]

Meet my kins! (+moodboard aesthetics)

Note: All my kins exist solely for coping purposes. Some are new additions to who I am, while some have been around for as long as I can remember. All my kins are feminine in nature, and I always go by she/her or they/them while kinning. 

 1.) Unnamed

I usually only begin to kin her when I’m getting extremely irritated, angry, experiencing too much annoying stimulation at once (example: hearing someone eating and being unable to focus on anything else), or if a traumatic and unfair either occurs or I’ve been reminded of a previous one. When I’m de-stressing as Unnamed, I unwind by listening to DOOM (2016) OST, or the DOOM: Eternal OST. I’ve never been able to really know her name because I believe this kin is an unhealthy way of venting anger. I would count her as a half-fictionkin since there’s a LOT of overlap with Doomslayer and her; although she is not Doomslayer the character, but a Doomslayer as a concept. She is silent, and a pure characterization of my anger, trauma, and my need to let it out. I do not condone ever venting my anger physically as Unnamed, she is just there when I vent in my extensive daydreaming with music, and is always gone when I’m done daydreaming roughly 1-3 hours later.

2.) lavender

lavender has been around for almost as long as I can remember, though i do have 2 parts to myself that are similar but different enough to give lavender 2 separate paragraphs. I usually slip into being lavender when I’m listening to celtic/fantasy/cottagecore music. I also become lavender when watching cottagecore tiktoks, thrifting videos, room redecoration videos, writing or roleplaying a character who either A. has a child or is pregnant, or is B. a character who is very mature and parental+kind. I also become lavender mostly when thinking about my future, and i associate her very strongly with interior decoration, DIYs, neutral and de-saturated earthy tones paired with gentle colors, blouses, long skirts, white hair, grey eyes, maturity, and home activities such as baking, cooking, cleaning, painting, playing music. I prefer to keep lavender lowercase as it suits me more and feels more genuine to who i am. lavender is one of my most developed kins, and is an OCkin. ive been creating her as a daydream character for a while and she is so personal to me that i realized i kinned her a few months ago.

3.) Philomena

Philomena is the “second half” or “second version” of lavender. She is basically everything lavender is, except for the fact she is much much more mixed with my wiccan/pagan side. I associate Philomena with witchcore, dark cottagecore, vulture culture, dark academia, corvidcore, crystals, plants, trinkets, non-sexual nudity, intersex and trans-inclusive ideas of femininity, storms/lightning/thunder, hot mist/warm rain, bare feet, mud+dirt, voluntary isolation, heights, stone buildings, echoey acoustics, cloaks, dark earthy tones and cool colors, corsets, nighttime, the moon, tarot, intelligence/wittiness/cleverness, strangely colored lipstick, and raw power. Philomena counts both as OCkin and probably counts as magickin/sorcererkin as I oftentimes imagine her with inherent magical (not magickal) sorcerer-like abilities.

4.) [Deadname]/Childhood

This is one of the strangest, saddest, and hardest to describe kin that I have. If anyone has any way to describe or label this kin, please send me a suggestion in my asks. I have only ever switched to [Deadname] in situations of serious trauma caused by my family (witnessing arguments, witnessing destruction of physical objects during moments of anger, moments of extreme guilt, etc.) During or sometimes after those moments, I will become [Deadname]. I will usually change into more childlike clothes like onesies or fluffy pajamas, my brain will shut down and I become unable or unwilling to speak, and I will desperately try to do anything to cope. Things include blowing bubbles, hiding with stuffed animals in my closet, building a blanket/pillow nest on my bed and curling up, drinking juice, cuddling stuffed animals, and sometimes just curling up in my bed and completely shutting down. Most of the time when I become [Deadname], it will be to distract myself from my environment, but sometimes during the aftermath, I will continue to stay as [Deadname] and be in that child-like state. I am no longer myself when I am [Deadname], I feel like I am a physical representation of a silent version of my childhood (hence the other name). I heavily heavily associate this kin with trauma. I usually don’t ever switch back to something else until I have woken up the next day. I am currently unsure if this is a kin, as i do identify not as myself but something else, or if it’s just part of an underlying mental illness. I associate [Deadname] with crying/tears, trauma, childhood, silence, coping mechanisms, shaking, pajamas, juice, my bedroom, curling up, sleeping, and blankets/pillows. Whenever I curl up really tightly and snuggle up in my blankets, especially if I’m about to go to sleep, I feel myself shift slightly into being [Deadname].

So yeah! Those are my kins. If anyone has any questions, suggestions, or corrections, feel free to send them to my asks! Excuse the tag spam as well, just wanna make sure I try and get as many in there as possible because I don’t want anyone to get accidentally triggered by my post. 

#ockin #kinning #kins #kin #meet my kin #moodboard #aesthetics #kin moodboard #cw: trauma #trauma #tw: trauma #sorcererkin #fictionkin

[fiftyshadesgrl]

Wrecked part 13

Frozen to the spot, i couldnt form words to even lie my way out of this. Negan stared at me waiting for an answer. His eyes bore holes into me as my mind raced to try to find words to blurt out, anything, but nothing came.

"Are you fuckin pregnant?" Negan broke the tense silence between us. My mouth opened and closed over and over as i tried to say something. He stepped closer to me as he shook the bottle of vitamins at me. "Answer me, this instant." I couldnt form the words so finally i was able to nod my head. "And im the father?" My eyes shot up to his, confusion and hurt im sure was evident on my face.

"Of course you are negan. What do you think id cheat on you?" My voice came out shaky but stern. "I know that i went against you going to daryl that night but i would never cheat on you."

He held up his hand in a surrendering motion. "I never said that you did." I vent down to pick up my pack and stuff the rest of my few belongings back in there. When i stood back up i held my hand out for the vitamins. "When did you find out?" He asked still holding onto the vitamins.

I sighed and crossed my arms over my chest. "Just a little while ago. When i was at the medical tent."

"Then why didnt you come and get me? If you fuckin knew whyd you run?" He lowered the bat down to his side, he looked like he had the wind knocked out of him.

I let out a breath and stepped towards him closing the space between us. "Negan, i didnt run. I had no idea how i was going to tell you because i didnt know how you felt about having children. Plus how are we supposed to raise a child in this world?"

"I dont think being by yourself in the fuckin woods is the answer." He raised his eyebrows at me as his head turned to the side. "Youre coming back to the sanctuary." I opened my mouth to say something but he cut me off. "No is not a fuckin answer."

"Im not staying with your other wives, i already made it clear how i feel about that." I say crossing my arms over my chest. Negan grabbed my pack and slung it over his shoulder and started walking down the path the opposite direction i was heading. I jogged until i caught up with him, i pulled the strap of my pack and he turned with a jerk.

"Where the hell are you going with my stuff?" I yelled not really meaning to, surprising us both in the process. He raised his eyebrows at me like it was obvious.

"I done told you." He pulls free from my grip and motions for me to walk in front of him. I roll my eyes but step forward, the smug smile on his lips made me want to slap him or kiss him. One of the two. "Attagirl." He whispered behind me as he fell into step. We walked in silence for a few minutes when i stopped in my tracks. Negan almost bumping into me from behind.

I turned around to find him scowling at me. "What the fuck is the problem now?" He growled obviously running out of patience with me.

"Im not staying with your other wives."

He sighed and grabbed me by the arm, basically dragging me along with him as he walked. "Negan. Stop." I jerked away from him but i could see the fire in his eyes as he turned to face me.

"For fucks sake! Can you just do as your fuckin told!? For once!" He bellowed and i flinched at the harshness in his voice. He rubbed a hand over his face in frustration but when his eyes met mine again there was no anger there. "I dont have any other wives. Theres just you, no one else. So stop being fuckin stubborn and lets get back."

My breath caught in my throat at his admission but i didnt say another word. I let him lead me down the dirt path until the sanctuary was in sight. I saw simon standing by one of the big trucks that was parked in the road, his rifle lax in his hands.

Negan nodded at him and he climved into the back of the truck, not a word passed between them. Negan held my door open for me, i climbed in then he walked around the truck and got in himself. The ride back to the sanctuary was short and silent.

When the truck stopped just inside the gates i grabbed my pack that negan had placed in between us, opened my door and made my way to the place i called home not so long ago.

I turned toward the stairs but wasnt sure where to go. So instead i turned and walked towards the kitchen, just as i sat down at one of the tables i spotted negan across the room looking for me. When he spotted me he dismissed everyone in the room, which was just a few kitchen workers and saviors standing around.

He sat down in front of me and placed his hands on the table. "Now, lets get some things fuckin straight. You, are not to leave this sanctuary no matter what. If i so much as find you open the fuckin front door i will lock you in one of the holding cells. Do you understand?"

I couldnt help but chuckle at negans threats. "So im a prisoner now?"

"No, but youre carrying my fuckin baby. That means you are to be safe at all fuckin times." He growled out.

I leaned forward in my chair, he did the same. "Im pregnant negan, not an invalid. Im not going to stay in here all the time. I can still do my duties."

I saw the muscle in his jaw twitch, "you are my wife, you will do as i fuckin say."

"And if i dont?" I challenged him. He didnt say a word just stared. I rolled my eyes, "where am i going to be sleeping?"

His brow furrowed, "in our room, where the fuck did you think?"

I shook my head, not really sure how to answer him. I didnt know whether he would want me back in his bed after what happened. All i could think was, im glad he did. I stood then, negan got to his feet as well following me up the stairs and to his bedroom.

I sat my pack down on the floor beside the door and sat down in the chair in the corner. I sighed as the stress from the last couple of months begin to seep into my bones. I pulled my old boots off and began to rub my feet. I looked up and negan was staring right at me. "What? You dont have to babysit me. Im not gonna run if thats what youre thinking."

He sat on the edge of the bed, his head rolled from side to side his neck cracking while doing so. I stood and grabbed one of his tshirts from the dresser planning on taking a long hot shower. Negan stopped me by grabbing my hand.

"Ive got some things to do." His eyes showed so many emotions, it pulled at my heart.

I smiled, "dont worry, ill be here. A nice hot ahower and some sleep is what i need right now."

He nodded but continued to hold my hand. After a few minutes he released me and walked out the door without looking back.

The shower relaxed every muscle in me and i had forgot how much i had missed hot water. My eyes grew heavy as i climbed under the comforter. One last look at the window and i could see the sun was starting to set. It wouldnt be much longer before negan came back up for the night but there was no way i could stay awake to wait for him. I snuggled into the pillow that smelled of him and let exhaustion take over.

@holylulusworld @tftumblin @an-unhealthy-obsession @jesseswartzwelder @justanotherwinchester @kingdomkey13 @nikki082489 @tcquotes @thequeenreaders @aubageddon91 @imaginesforthepeople

#negan #negansmut #twdnegan #twdnegansmut #jeffreydeanmorgan #jeffreydeanmorgansmut