#it was fucking awful I was so sick and fatigued that even if I had enough energy to cook dinner I didn’t have enough to do dishes

[caramiaaddio]

One of the things you should know about me is that I do not and will never lose weight on purpose. I eat well and exercise regularly, but that’s just to keep myself healthy — not to lose weight. And for the most part, I DON’T lose weight. Even though I eat well and exercise, that really just keeps me in a solid stasis around 260/270, and I’m happy with that. I like how my body looks, and as long as all of my bloodwork is coming back in normal ranges I see no need to change my diet and exercise schedule. My weight might fluctuate a bit depending on the week, but it’s not something I measure on my own and it’s usually never enough that there’s a noticeable physical difference. So for me, the phrase “I’ve lost a lot of weight” isn’t some kind of celebration about my physical form, but an indicator that something is going wrong in my body that I haven’t intended upon.

Anyways. Lost a lot of weight this week :(

#covid my detested #turns out sleeping 18 hours a day and having no appetite means you eat very little #looked in myself in the mirror and was noticeably smaller and it’s legit like oh no. oh sweetheart you haven’t been eating enough #I’m fine now I actually just got the go ahead to leave my apartment with a mask and the antigen test was almost 100% negative #it just sucks to look at my body and see the physical toll this has taken #it was fucking awful I was so sick and fatigued that even if I had enough energy to cook dinner I didn’t have enough to do dishes #I’d go out to the kitchen wash like five plates and I’d be on the verge of passing out just a terrible headache #so I ate nearly nothing all day and eventually would give up and order dinner #but I’m feeling significantly better and did quite a few dishes yesterday! PLUS I went out to the grocery today!!! #I was VERY excited to be outside the apartment lol #I did drive through for the errands that I could but like #having had covid and obviously being masked up I am Very worried about how many people don’t have masks #the lady at the pharmacy didn’t have a mask on????? ma’am???? #I wanted to just like yell HEY I HAVE COVID THATS WHY IM WEARING A MASK PLEASE STAY AWAY FROM ME #and like logically yes I’m past the major contagious period but still #it’s just suddenly like oh wow people are really acting like this isn’t still here and can hurt you #honestly I’m gonna mask at work every day now just for the ‘snot nosed kids’ factor lol #like I knew on some level that the cdc guidelines weren’t perfect but idk #after this experience I’m kind of like…dissapointed and angry?? #like I followed all the rules. all the guidelines. this whole time I did exactly what was recommended to be safest #and I didn’t get sick the whole pandemic even when my family members got it I didn’t because I listened to the guidelines #so I trusted them. and when they said I didn’t need a mask because I was vaccinated and boosted I listened #and then I got covid. and it’s just this weird sense of betrayal like man I believed you would keep me safe #your job was to keep me safe #but clearly they gave in to political pressures because the guidelines clearly aren’t good enough #ESPECIALLY because I work in a school setting. they should not have removed mask mandates for these students #they don’t even know how to cover their mouth when they cough #it’s 50/50 which kid gave it to me but one of them would pull his mask down to cough and the other didn’t know what a fever felt like #but the guidelines said I was safe so I believed them #and then I got covid in the third fucjing week of my first job in a public school

[zoesmp4]

WARMTH “and so, you drifted into sleep, finding solace in the warmth of his presence.” daryl dixon x fem!reader

tags: hurt to comfort, ass ending (i tried 💔), swearing, reader is on her period, short

a/n: first daryl fic woop woop!! everyone say thank you gracie cs she requested yet another good fic idea 😵‍💫 so it was supposed to be a fluff but it ended up being a htc.. oopsies.. but hope ygs enjoy!!

there were many perks that came from being a female. but periods? not one of them. you don’t know why your younger self was so eager to get it. to put it simply, periods sucked. they made you feel awful. 

before the apocalypse it was already pretty hard for you. but now, it was incomparable. after all, it’s not like you had shit just laying around to help you. 

so, whatever you thought was “rough” back then, it was way rougher now. when it was your time of month. you would get cranky, a stark contrast to your usual bubbly demeanor. on top of that, you also had to deal with the fatigue and endless mood swings. 

the worst thing though, was the cramps. the constant waves of sharp pain pushed you to your limit. 

they were also the reason you were currently perched on your bed, back leaning against the headboard, with your knees held up to your chest. 

honestly, it had been a decent day until now. you did some stuff to help out, and caught up with your friends. you were able to partially take your mind off of the discomfort you were feeling. 

but of course, the stupid cramps ruined it all. you had to excuse yourself before hastily making your way back to your room. you practically collapsed onto your bed the second you walked in. 

and that’s how you found yourself in this situation. if anyone walked by your room, they would assume you were dying. or atleast, that’s what your countless groans made it sound like. 

to your luck, you suddenly felt the urge to cry. “suck it up.” you told yourself, knowing that this was another dumb mood swing which was a normal occurrence during your period. but, you lost the battle between your emotions and you. 

with the pain coming from your cramps, and the sudden sadness you felt, you couldn’t stop yourself. tears welled up in your eyes and cascaded down, mimicking a waterfall.

only a few moments later, you jumped slightly when you heard a loud knock at your bedroom door. the person didn’t even wait for your response before barging in. that sort of thing would’ve annoyed you if it was any other person, but it was daryl. 

you felt slightly embarrassed that he was seeing you in this state, but he was your boyfriend. he’s seen you at your worst. he quickly walked over to to your bed, his footsteps echoing. 

“what’s up with ya? heard ya weren’t feeling too good.” he said, sitting down on your bed. he placed the back of his hand onto your forehead, checking to see if you were sick. after noticing you didn’t have a fever, he wiped his thumb under your eyes to wipe away the hot tears.

“no fever. why do ya look like yer bout’ to hurl?” he asked. the vision he put in your head didn’t make you feel any better. daryl didn’t know that much about periods, but you couldn’t blame him. 

you opened your mouth to reply, but instead you let out another groan. he looked at you with concern in his eyes. “what do ya need? what’s wrong?” he grunted out. 

all you needed was something that would relieve these fucking cramps. you needed a heating pad, but of course, you didn’t have one. so, you did the only thing that could help you in that moment. 

you gently pulled your boyfriend’s head down to rest on your lap. you sighed in small relief. the feeling of his warmth coming into contact with your body felt nice. 

meanwhile, daryl on the other hand was full of confusion. “the hell ya doin’?” he asked. “shut up, just give me a minute.” you mumbled, closing your eyes.

he wanted to protest, but he held himself back. he knew this was helping you, and thats all he really cared about. “get to sleep angel.” he quietly muttered.

and so, you drifted into sleep, finding solace in the warmth of his presence.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x fem!reader #norman reedus #daryl dixon smut #the walking dead imagine #daryl dixon imagine #the walking dead oneshot #daryl dixon oneshot #the walking dead #the walking dead x reader #twd #twd x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead fanfiction #twd fanfiction #the walking dead smut

[scvrmqueen]

Tag, You’re It - Danny Johnson

┊ 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓 ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — one-shot.

┊ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒) ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — Danny Johnson x afab!reader.

┊ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — SMUT! dubious consent, descriptions of gore, vaginal sex, use of knife handle for penetration, dirty talk, unprotected sex, no aftercare, Danny is literally his own warning. 

┊ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — 2,982.

┊ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ I got this idea after listening to Tag, You’re It by Melanie Martinez. Takes place during Dead by Daylight. I don’t own the rights to Danny or DBD. You’re just trying to survive another trial when Danny proposes a little game. 

“Oh, you were so close, kitten!” A mirthless chuckle slipped from the macabre figure perched above you, his hips pinning you to the frigid earth. Your struggles had promptly ceased once his steel blade found purchase against your throat. 

“And to think, one more step and you would have been home free,” he tsked, blade digging further into your sensitive flesh to reveal a crimson stream. “Didn’t know you could be so cruel, kitten, trying to leave me on my lonesome without so much as a goodbye kiss.” 

“Fuck you, Danny,” you spat, glaring into the shadowy abyss of black fabric that concealed his eyes. “Kill me and be done with it, I’m sick of playing your fucked up games.” 

An audible gasp sounded beneath the foreboding mask, a gloved hand - the one not preoccupied with mutilating you - covering his heart in feigned shock. “Y/n you wound me! Where’s your fighting spirit, huh? C’mon, I know you have that ‘I’ll go out kicking and screaming’ final girl mentality.” 

You were mere feet from a successful trial, sparing a glance toward the cement hatch. What anger bubbled in your chest was steadily replaced with fatigue, an overwhelming sense of feebleness rendering your fight or flight instinct futile. You pressed your scorched fingertips into the dirt beneath you. A shaky breath pierced through pursed lips, frustrated tears gathering in the corners of your eyes as you realized just how close you had been to besting the Ghost Face. 

“Aw, doll. You’re so pretty when you cry for me,” Danny cooed, his blade smearing blood on your cheek as it moved to collect the pearly drops. “Tell you what, I’m feeling generous. Play one last little game with yours truly, and I’ll let you have the hatch.” 

Mouth agape, you waited for the inevitable ‘ha, gotcha’ moment. When Danny remained silent - a phenomena in itself, you finally responded, “what game?”

“Atta girl.” He lowered his head until cheap plastic scraped your cheek, his faux mouth resting by your ear. Leather and copper flooded your senses, head reeling at the intimacy of his proximity. “You’re familiar with tag, aren’t you, doll?” 

You scoffed, “tag?” 

“That’s what I said, Y/n.” You could feel the deep chuckle rumble through his chest. “Try to keep up, sweet thing, you’re smarter than that. Now, if I catch you - and we both know I will - I get to do whatever I want with you.” 

“But you won’t kill me?” The question was more breathless than you intended. Whatever he wanted? Your cooperation was founded on the promise of making it out alive. Still, you couldn’t help but hesitate. If Danny’s intention wasn’t to give you to the entity, what did he want? 

“Cross my heart hope to die, kitten.” His words dripped with deranged glee, the rough edge to his voice sending shivers down your spine. “I’ll even give you a ten second head start, being the generous fella I am.”

“Fine,” you conceded. “Get the hell off me so we can get this over with.” 

“There’s the Y/n I know and love.” A leather clad hand wrapped around your throat, using the leverage to drag you to your feet. You reluctantly complied, attempting to ignore the traitorous heat that pooled in your abdomen. 

You sprinted in the opposite direction the moment he released you. 

Aside from a guaranteed win, this game hardly differed from the demented reality of every trial. You were perpetually haunted by that damned mask - led to slaughter each time the sanctity of the campfire was torn away. Unlike your counterparts, your penchant for fighting back had earned Danny’s favor from day one. His insatiable obsession blossomed during your first trial, when you drove a jagged plank through his abdomen. 

Had you predicted he would save you for last each trial, you wouldn’t have been so damn heroic. 

Your lungs burned, legs aching as your pace gradually relented. You spared a glance over your shoulder to determine Danny’s proximity. Though momentarily relieved to be greeted by empty darkness, his absence ultimately proved equally troubling. Ghost Face was synonymous with stealth, often remaining undetected until his signature hunting blade was buried deep in your gut. It was impossible to determine where he prowled now. 

Haddonfield offered little room to be chased. Eventually, you would have to loop back to the hatch in order to escape, a feat which would require you to pass through the decrepit homes. Though entering structures always proved to be a precarious gamble, remaining on the street much longer practically ensured your capture. 

You bypassed the first few houses you passed with the intention of throwing Danny off your trail. Zig-zagging through abandoned vehicles, you staggered toward the Myers residence in hopes of a momentary reprieve. Hiding in the abandoned building was futile - Danny had prompted a game of tag after-all. The moment you ceased moving he would be there, his merciless shadows ensnaring you. You prayed slipping through the rooms undetected would buy you some time. 

Pausing briefly upon entering, you attempted to regulate your rapid breathing in order to detect his presence. Satisfied, you darted into the kitchen to grab a butcher’s knife from the familiar wooden block. Danny hadn’t specified rules regarding self defense - his mistake. Should the occasion arise, you fully intended on making grabbing you a hellish feat. 

No sooner had you grabbed the knife did a familiar dark chuckle sound from the doorway to the porch. You turned slowly towards the culprit, as if minor movements would shroud you from his gaze. 

“Really, bunny? The Myer’s house? Tsk, never knew you were so cliché.” Well, at least you knew where he was now. Spinning on your feet, you sprinted back toward the main entrance. Knowing Danny, the moment you stepped out onto the porch he would be there to grab you, blade against your throat and arms encircling your waist. Hesitation would cost you precious seconds, leaving you to scamper up the stairway on shaky legs. 

“Annndd going up the stairs?” His distant voice only caused you to increase your pace. “Y/n, haven’t I taught you to be better than those horror movie bimbos?”

 As you reached the room with a large opening to the roof, you couldn’t resist screaming a hearse, “Fuck you, asshole!” Once on the roof, you would slip into the backyard and make a swift exit back to the hatch. You could taste victory on your tongue, beyond pleased to have outwitted Ghost Face. 

Or at least that was the plan. 

You hadn’t planned on Danny tackling you mere feet from the roof, his imposing figure weighing heavy on your back. Thrashing beneath him proved futile. He grabbed your wrists with little resistance, pinning your arms by your head. The cold hardwood was pressed roughly against your cheek, and from the awkward angle you watched as his mask lowered to your ear. 

“Tag, you’re it.” His deep chuckle reverberated through your spine. 

“Let me up, Danny, and I’ll gladly come get you.” Clutching the butcher knife tighter, you wriggled your ass slightly in hopes of providing a momentary distraction. A throaty groan sounded above you, his hips digging further into your own. His grasp loosened, and you used your remaining strength to twist on your back. You were quick to extend the blade toward him in a punishing stab. But Danny was always quicker. 

“Feisty,” he growled, his hand encircling your wrist and slamming it to the ground with excessive force. A small yelp escaped you as the knife flew from your grasp. 

“But I think you’re forgetting the rules, kitten. Naughty girl.” You were pinned beneath him once more, glare burning through his black mesh. “Let me remind you what happens when you don’t. fucking. listen.” 

Danny shifted, capturing both your wrists in one hand, his knife skimming your waist. The cool steel scraped against your stomach as it lifted your shirt. Before you could even comprehend struggling, your hip burned with a familiar intensity. Searing pain crept up your side as Danny sliced into your sensitive flesh - a hiss escaping through clenched teeth in a poor attempt not to scream. The blade curved against you, shallow in its path but agonizing enough to demonstrate his wrath. 

“Ah, perfect!” Danny leaned back on his heels to observe his work. Your eyes drifted down to observe a jagged “D” carved into the left side of your hip. 

“You sick fuck!” You shouted, all thoughts of self preservation having dissipated. The wound would heal upon returning to the campfire, but it didn’t stop the blinding rage that permeated your senses. 

“Oh, Y/n,” he snarled, using the blade to slice through the middle of your tank-top. “You have no idea just how sick I really am.” He traced the steel around the top of your exposed breasts, humming his approval as your breath hitched. The knife slipped beneath the thin fabric in the middle of your bra, exposing your chest to his ravenous gaze. A traitorous moan slipped from your lips - a wanton sound that you attempted to disguise as disgust by struggling beneath him. 

“Danny-” his name tumbled from your throat with unintended reverence. Your voice trembled with thinly veiled desire, leaving you to pinch your lips together. You desperately hoped Danny hadn’t recognized your slip. 

“Fuck, kitten, I love it when you say my name.” His hips bore into your own with bruising pressure, forcing a haphazard squeal from you in response. Admittedly, this wasn’t the first time that you had been in a compromising position beneath the killer. While the previous instances had ended in your untimely demise, this moment whispered promises of something more - something deep-seated that you could never come back from. 

“You know, I can’t count how many times I’ve heard your screams of pain,” he muttered, the deep, guttural sound going straight to your core. “I can’t wait to hear what you sound like screaming for more.” Without further warning, his chilled, leather fingertips pushed past your denim shorts, briefly grazing the hem of your panties. 

You didn’t recognize the sound that emitted from the depths of your chest as he slid into you - facing little resistance much to your dismay. His finger curled, stimulating a part of you that hadn’t been unearthed for far too long. Dragging in and out, hitting a spot that made your vision dance with speckles of white, you couldn’t find the strength to resist his ministrations. 

“You like this, don’t you? What a dirty little girl you are, bunny.” His voice fractured your lust-fueled haze, attempting to slip your hands from his grasp as you bucked beneath him. Your resistance hardly fazed Danny, earning no more than an amused tsk as he tightened his hold. 

“Now, now, bunny. If you’re going to be naughty and not play by the rules, I’m going to have to punish you.” A wisp of fear at the promise of discipline caused your core to clench. Danny groaned as he removed his fingers completely, the sudden emptiness sobering your senses. The reprieve was short-lived, the leather previously working you replaced with the blunt handle of a familiar knife. 

“What the fuck -” Your words slipped into an unexpected cry of pleasure as the handle brushed your center with expert precision. Discomfort melded into bliss, your will to fight a distant echo in the recesses of your mind. His concept of ‘punishment’ seemed skewed, particularly as a skilled finger danced along your clit in tandem with the blade’s thrusts. Your eyes fluttered close, walls clenching with bruising force as you reached the precipice - nearly pushed over that delicious edge - 

And just as soon as sweet release had been promised, it was stolen. 

A pitiful whine escaped you as his attention ceased, robbing you of the peak you so desperately craved. Ah, punishment, indeed. 

“Ah, ah, Y/n. Only good girls get to cum.” Danny adjusted his position so his hips were once again pressed firmly between your legs. Much to your dismay, the coarse fabric of his pants caused you to grind against him - desperately searching for friction.

“I might consider being merciful and letting you cum on my cock if you beg me for it.” His deep rasp trailed into a lilting tone, teasing you - humiliating you. Even in all your torturous deaths dealt by Danny’s blade, you had never begged him to spare you. Though your hips chased his, desperate to ease the ache between your legs, you would sooner die than plead for him to fuck you. 

“You call that merciful?” You scoffed, attempting to ease the tremble in your voice. “You’re even more fucked up than I thought if you think I want you.” 

“Oh, I think you’re pretty fucked in the head yourself, kitten.” Those fingers slid between your thighs once more, gliding up your center to collect evidence of your arousal. “You can lie to yourself all you want. But see this?” He pressed the glistening leather to your lips, forcing your mouth open to taste your body’s betrayal. “This doesn’t lie.”

“So, you’re going to be a good girl, and you’re going to take everything I have to offer. Every. Last. Goddamn. Inch,” he growled, each word only fueling your thinly veiled desire. You wanted to protest - wanted to kick and scream like a good little survivor. But something within you, some deep, animalistic urge only satiated by the thrill of danger, wouldn’t permit it. Maybe Danny was right. Maybe the endless torment of fighting to survive fueled something savage - a ruinous need to be ravaged by the enemy. 

Saving you from the false pretenses of your moral obligation to resist, Danny flipped you onto your stomach in a swift motion. One firm arm wrapped around your waist, using the leverage to lift your hips up. With your face and arms planted to the floor, the harsh arch of your figure placed your bare ass on display for Danny. 

Without warning, two fingers were buried deep within you, setting a brutal pace that set your body ablaze with burning embers. Just as your walls began to flutter, Danny removed his fingers before delivering a sharp slap to your sensitive flesh. He waited a moment, allowing you to drift further from the promise of release, before claiming you once more. You lost track of time as he continued to edge you - cooing dirty words in your ear and chuckling at your growing frustration. 

“You know how to make this stop, kitten.” Your body ached, core pulsing as his touch parted once more. Danny trailed his blade down your thighs, collecting the slick of your arousal. You had been so determined not to beg. But now as you burned with stifled desire, begging for release seemed preferable to continuing this torture. 

“Danny,” you whined, aghast at how difficult stringing together a sentence had become. “Please, please, just fuck me already you fucking psychotic -” 

You were cut off by your own hoarse scream as Danny pushed into you, forcing you to take his entire length in one fatal thrust. You arched further into the ground, allowing him to reach impossibly deeper as he brushed your cervix. He was so big, feeling as though he would split you apart as he snapped his hips against yours. 

“That’s it, Y/n - fuck, you’re so tight. Bet you haven’t had anybody fuck this sweet cunt like this, have you?” You could only moan in response, clenching around him. 

A gloved hand fisted your hair, pulling your head back roughly so his mask rested by your ear. “I asked you a fucking question, bunny. Nobody fucks you like this, do they?” 

“No!” You squealed. “Only you, Danny - Danny.” His pace increased as you whimpered his name, thrusts intensifying until your looming orgasm was forced upon you. Your body trembled as your release washed over you, waves of fierce pleasure threatening to consume your very existence. 

“Yes - yes, that’s my girl.” He didn’t slow down, allowing you no reprieve from the overstimulation that wracked your core. You attempted to pull away, to form a coherent thought that would save you from the onslaught of fervent sensations. 

“Danny s’too much,” you slurred. A venomous laugh sounded in turn as he flipped you over again, hands gripping the undersides of your thighs to press your knees to your chest. He resumed his brutal pace, brushing the pad of his thumb against your clit as you writhed helplessly beneath him. 

“C’mon, Y/n, you can take one more can’t you?” That familiar pressure was already building. You forced your fluttering eyes to gaze upon his mask, the mere sight of his looming presence causing you to tumble over the edge once more. You screamed his name, overwhelmed by the earth-shattering intensity of  your climax. 

“Fuck, yes, that’s it,” he groaned. Danny’s pace became frenzied, each thrust forcing brutally past your fluttering walls. “You want me to fill you up, don’t you? You want to be dripping with my cum when you sit around that campfire with your pathetic little friends.” 

“Fuck. You,” You managed, the breathy words lacking their usual bite. Your fire only spurred him on as he buried himself to the hilt within you, hot ropes of his cum coating your insides. 

As he slipped from you, allowing you to come down from your orgasmic high, the weight of your actions settled in your chest with crushing realization. Danny placed a finger under your chin to return your gaze to him - an uncharacteristically gentle gesture. 

Whatever insults you prepared to spew were quickly lost as he moved his mask - revealing a finely sculpted jaw covered in dark stubble. He leaned in close, pouty lips hovering above your own and stealing the breath from your lungs. 

“Until next time, kitten. And there will be a next time.” 

#danny johnson #danny johnson x reader #Danny Johnson x you #jed olsen x reader #Jed Olsen x you #jed olsen #danny jed olsen johnson #DBD #DBD Ghostface #ghostface #ghostface smut #danny johnson smut #dbd smut #slasher x you #slasher fic #slasher smut #slasher fandom

[luveline]

hi hi honey! so i sent this request before but tumblrs been eating my asks so i’m gonna send it again,

i’m the person who asked about the kisses before dinner universe and so since u said u hadn’t gotten any requests for it i wanted to send u one! u mentioned that it was quite nerve wracking the first time reader got pregnant so maybe u could do a blurb where steve’s just comforting her and reassuring her during that time? if u want something more simple, it could just be a small blurb of how their night goes when reader comes home from work or something? ty and i hope tumblr actually ate my request and i’m not bombarding u with this again :(have a good day lovely ❤️

i love kisses before dinner i wanna write a thousand blurbs for them, thank you for requesting! here's steve and u when ur pregnant the first time with avery <3 fem!pregnant!reader

You're more young than you'd planned to be, the first time. Young and terrified.

Steve knows how scared you are, and though he hasn't suggested anything again since the first time you'd made up your mind, you know that any path you take is the one he wants to take with you. Having his support makes it easier, but it certainly doesn't make it easy.

Pregnancy is terrifying. It can make you so sick. It can kill you. So while it's beautiful, and Steve insists it's doing numbers for your complexion, it's gruelling.

You're not even that pregnant yet and still you're fucking tired.

"Stevie?" you call, or try to, voice hoarse with fatigue.

He emerges rather than answer, arms open wide and waiting. "Hey, sweetheart."

And that's new. Steve has always been a "babe" or "baby" kind of guy. Your pregnancy has made him soft.

He's careful not to press against your stomach though it doesn't hurt even slightly when he does, abdomen held away from the small swell of your bump as he gets his arms under your armpits, hands rubbing over your shoulder blades. "Hello," he says sweetly, kissing your cheeks, your chin. "I missed you so much." He hesitates for a second, and then he lets a hand slide between your bodies.

You lean back to let him know it's okay.

"And you," he adds, palm flat over your stomach, "I missed you, too."

"I don't feel very well."

He nods. "Alright. Come and sit down."

That's another one of his insistences. Total, awful honesty. Pregnancy is full of problems, like morning sickness and heartburn and back ache and nausea and headaches. It leaves you stressed and exhausted, and Steve had made it very clear that any complaining was welcomed.

You know, in your heart of hearts, that he's more excited for this baby than you are. He's terrified, too, but he's brimming with joy half the time, so eager to meet whoever it is that comes out on the other side. And you know he feels indebted to you, though he shouldn't. You want this baby a lot.

But Steve aches for them. He's gonna be a great dad.

Right now, he needs to be an amazing boyfriend almost husband.

I don't want a pregnancy proposal, you'd said.

His guilty smile had given him away fast. I want to marry you.

And I want to marry you, Stevie, I do. But not because we're having a baby.

In your mind, he's not your husband or your boyfriend, he's your Steve, as silly as it sounds. He's your everything. He's the only thing getting you through this.

Steve sits you down on a cushion in the kitchen and plants another kiss on top of your head. You haven't lost any mobility yet, but the pleasure of being cared for so deeply makes it hard to turn him down when he guides you around like this. Though, sometimes, when you're cranky, you complain about being babied. He takes it all in stride.

He cracks open a cold bottle of water and gives it to you. Then he turns back to the chopping board next to the stove and finishes what he'd been doing before you arrived, funnelling slices fruit into the colander. He rinses it, and then he pours it into a bowl and puts it in front of you.

"You want peanut butter?" he asks, wrapping his arms slowly and carefully across your shoulders, chin hooked over your shoulder. "Honey? I could melt down some chocolate?"

You pick up a shimmering slice of watermelon and tip your head back to feed him.

"Salted caramel?" he asks as he chews.

You smile softly at him and lift your chin until he gets the memo, leaning down enough for you to kiss the side of his mouth.

"Stevie," you say, because he's so fucking lovely and you love him and not everything hurts when he's around, "I love you. I hope you know how much."

He blinks at you, swallowing hurriedly. "I know," he says.

"Okay, good."

"You think I don't know? Sweetheart, you're carying our kid."

"But if I weren't, I'd still love you this much."

He softens like taffy in the sun, rubbing the tip of his nose into your cheek adoringly. "If you weren't, I'd still love this much, too."

You breathe him in, the wet crush of watermelon between you and his lingering aftershave.

"But you are," he says eventually, kissing your cheek again and then pulling back. "So you better tell me if you want peanut butter of chocolate."

You choose. Steve is delighted, spoiling you with fruits and toppings and asking about work as he starts to make dinner instead. That's another conversation you've already had — he's still working now, but when the baby comes, he's gonna stay home even after maternity leave ends. And if you change your mind and want to stay home instead, that'll be okay too. He's a dream like that. Accommodating your every want and wish.

And so, he's teaching himself how to cook. It's more hit than miss, shockingly, and almost always nutritionally golden.

"Broccoli again?" you ask, trying to hide your amusement.

"Our munchkin's gonna be the healthiest kid ever. TV dinners are for schmucks."

You aren't sure he'll be saying that when he actually has a kid. "She won't be able to eat broccoli for the first six months."

"She wont," he agrees, clearly overjoyed at the idea of a little girl, "but when she can, she's gonna love it."

The fruit is nice and then not. You might've overindulged, or maybe your stomach's being sensitive, but suddenly it smells very strong and you have to push it away, keeling in on yourself with a sigh.

Steve doesn't fuss dramatically, but he does fuss, hand hesitant behind your shoulders.

"You need a bucket, baby?"

"No, I-" Saliva pools in your mouth. "Maybe."

He's swift, kneeling in front of you with the bucket positioned at your feet, hand sliding between your legs to find your hand where it's kneeding your aching stomach.

"She's bullying you, huh?" he asks sympathetically.

"She's barely the size of an apple," you moan, sweat prickling across your brow. "How can she do this to me?"

He strokes the inside of your hand with both thumbs. "She doesn't mean to."

You know that.

Eventually the sickness subsides. You don't throw up. Steve seems as happy as you do about this, kissing your hand with a very apologetic expression.

"I'm sorry," he says.

You lean back in your chair, back already aching, and pull him up onto his feet. If he's surprised at your strength he doesn't say anything, only closes you in again with his arms over your shoulders and his cheek pressed to your warm forehead.

"Don't be. We knew-" You laugh. "I knew this would be hard. I knew it would suck. But I want to do this with you."

"Even though you're scared," he murmurs.

"Even though I'm scared."

His hugs are a balm, always. You melt with relief the longer he holds you, listening to the pot simmering on the stove, lid rattling, steam whistling out of the gap. There's a fondness in his hands you find difficult to describe, devotion or something similar, big palms roving the lengths and slopes of your arms and back like you're made of the most precious thing on earth.

"I won't let anything happen to you."

That's sobering. You suppose you can fall into dramatics about it. Pregnancy is solemn, but it's also completely normal. Millions of people are pregnant right this second. You smile into his jaw, breath hot as you laugh.

"I know, baby," you say, more cheerful than you've sounded all night. "Promise."

He laughs too.

"My girl," he says, too much like the song. You're worried he's gonna start singing. Actually, you might like it.

"Can we listen to the radio?"

"Depends. Will you dance with me?"

You dance with him. You suppose it's a good idea to get all your dancing out now while you can, because in a month or two you'll have cankles, and not long after that you'll have your arms full. He pulls you in and spins you out, brown eyes dancing with a brand new happiness, silky hair falling in perfect layers either side.

"I hope she has your eyes," you say. The shape of them.

"I hope she's your carbon copy," he says, twirling you around, radio hiding the clumsy patter of your socked feet. "A mini you. God, what will I do then? I can barely say no to you."

"You never say no to me."

"Exactly."

He smiles so hard his lashes kiss in the corners, a pleased squinting grin. He can say what he likes. If she doesn't get his smile you'll riot.

#steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x fem!reader #pregnant!reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #stranger things 4 #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #kisses before dinner universe #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x pregnant!reader #steve harrington x reader fluff #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction

[joelsgirl]

It's not the fanciest request- but the guy of your choice realizing Reader is feeling awful because she's too warm, and the relief he feels when he sees her cooling off, physically and emotionally?

Muse: Joel Miller Content Warnings: Age Gap, Size Difference, Sick Reader, Fluff, Angst, Loving Relationship, No Use of Y/N + Want to see more? I’d love to see some requests, here!

“It’s okay, baby girl… come on, please, stay with me…”

At first, Joel thought it was a clicker who had somehow found you, even though the rational part of his brain knew they didn’t get that close to Jackson. Still, he’d inspected every inch of your body for a bite mark that wasn’t there. Relief flooded his mind for a moment and then a different kind of panic set in.

It was just a cold, the kind that used to run rampant through towns and cities before the outbreak, that harassed every home in winter or during a seasonal change… the problem was, they were deadlier now. No medicine to help ease the pain, or kill it before it starts.

You can feel the fever, it’s taken up residence in your bones. As if it can burn you up from the inside. It’s been years since you’ve gotten sick, nearly killed you then, too. Though you didn't have Joel, you were alone, walking the earth like a lost little lamb. This time it was different, this time, you had his doting hands fretting over you, holding you through the worst of it.

Hands that have killed to protect you, have that soothed your back, or held your hips as he fucked you into blissful oblivion. They were wringing out a towel, small droplets of water splashing out around him as he moved the cool compress to rest on your forehead.

"I need you to stay strong for me," his voice a broken murmur, his other hand stroking your hair, wiping the tears from your eyes. His own looked so lost, so haunted, as if he could see a future without you in it and it terrified him. So much pain in his life, so much heartbreak - you refused to add your name to his list of fallen. Gathered up all the strength you had to push through the pain, the fatigue, the fog clouding your mind.

He held you up as he fed you, small spoonful after another of hot soup, teas made from herbs he had collected around the gardens of Jackson, the fire burning nearby, temperatures skyrocketing to break the fever. You're not sure how long it takes, but eventually you feel it passing.

The hot fever turning to cold before finding some semblance of normal. He never left your side, not once, so grateful he held you through it all. Had loved him from the moment you first laid eyes upon him, even more so now with every passing day.

His relief his tangible, the way he bundles you up in his arms, rocking you against his chest as he peppers kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your lips... "Fuck, baby. Had me worried for a second there..." He tries to laugh it off, to act like it's no big deal but you both know better, and wouldn't have it any other way...

"You're stuck with me, Joel Miller." Your smile is weak but there, looking up at him as if he carried the world in his eyes.

"And I love you, too..."

#Joel Miller #the last of us #pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou fic #the last of us fic #joel miller fic #pedro pascal character fic #my writing #drabble #My writing x joel miller

[atmilliways]

Wrong On The Money (1-3)

parts 1, 2, & 3 of ?? | 888 words | Teen+

Blackmail fic on Ao3 | on tumblr

Summary:

Wayne is sick and they don't have the money for the treatment he needs. Eddie, desperate and spread thin between school, a part time job, and dealing, spots Steve outside of a gay club and opts for blackmail. Steve, who has heard about Wayne through Dustin... just sort of lets him.

I started writing this while Ao3 is down. Haven't quite finished it yet, but I've got 6.7k written so far, so I should be able to do daily posts for at least a while!

Now also posted on Ao3.

Quick note, if it helps anyone who might be hit too close to home by Wayne's serious but relatively brief health scare. First, he's going to be fine. I love Wayne, I wouldn't do that to him. Second, Dustin's mind goes straight to cancer when he hears that it's serious serious, but Wayne's illness is never specified. The only symptoms described are basically a cough and general weakness/fatigue.

1.

Dustin is really upset one day after school, the day he tells Steve about his dad. 

Steve had never asked, alright? It was family shit, and that kind of thing was. . . . Well, not sacred, he can’t even think that and keep a straight face, but definitely private. There could’ve been any number of reasons why Mr. Henderson wasn’t around. 

Turns out it was cancer.

And . . . it’s not insensitive to wonder, right? Steve doesn't know if it’s an anniversary or if someone’s been giving him shit at school about not having a dad or something. So, after a few bumbling questions about why this is upsetting him now, an explanation comes tumbling out.

The leader or president or whatever of the nerd club Dustin joined at the start of the year had to cancel their game this week. “Eddie never cancels, Steve,” Dustin insists, eyes red from crying and voice gone all squeaky. “And we were giving him shit about it, we all were, even the upperclassmen guys, and he. . . he j-just broke, Steve. Said his uncle is r-really sick, bad sick, and I know what that means. They don’t have the money for treatment. He’s Eddie’s only family, and he’s probably going t-to. . . .”

Steve regrets dropping Robin off at her house first today. She might not know what to say either, but at least they’d be in this together. “Dust, that’s. . . . That’s awful.”

Turns out he doesn’t have to say anything else, because Dustin thumps against him and bawls his eyes out. 

2.

“It was awful, Robs,” Steve says, rubbing a hand over his eyes as he talks into the phone. “I haven’t seen him like that since after Starcourt, when we had to tell him about Hop.”

Robin’s wince is audible in her reply. “Yeah, that's. . . . That’s pretty bad.”

“Yeah.” He heaves a sigh, hoping it’ll get some of the constricted feeling out of his chest. It doesn’t.

“Steve? Are you okay?”

“I don’t know.” It’s just, he hates it. Hated it then and hates it now, because both times there’s no way for him to jump between Dustin and this thing. “Everything was starting to sort of feel okay again, and then suddenly there's Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson and his uncle, who I’ve never even seen in my life—”

“It’s not about the Munsons, Steve,” Robin says gently. “You and Dustin have that ‘you die I die’ thing. He’s like your kid brother who annoys the shit out of you, but you love him to death anyway. And right now he’s sad but you can’t do anything to help.”

Lifting his face from his hand, Steve looks around the room. He’s on the big comfortable couch in his big fucking house with too many rooms, all empty except for this one. His parents are never home, always away on business trips that got way more frequent after Barbara Holland disappeared from a party he’d hosted. They send money—not an allowance, not since he didn’t get into any of the colleges he’d applied to. But the utility bills are always paid up, and a gardener still comes around to do lawn maintenance every other week.

He wonders how the cost of maintaining a house they don’t live in compares to the cost of whatever kind of treatment Munson’s uncle needs.

Doesn’t let himself wonder if it would make a difference, but he knows that treatments don’t always work. It hadn’t, apparently, for Dustin’s dad.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees heavily. “I know.”

3.

The nice thing about being done with high school and working weekends at a shitty retail job is, Steve can do whatever he wants on some weekdays. As long as he doesn’t have a shift that starts before noon the next day, anyway. Which he doesn’t.

So, a few days after Dustin’s revelations, Steve drives up to the nearest outskirts of Indy. Eventually he ends up in one of those clubs that he and Robin have been researching how to find.

He tells himself that he’s scoping it out before he brings her, but he wants to get lost for a while. Empty his head out of things he can’t do a damn thing about—the Upside Down, the monsters, the Russians, the Munsons, the memories of Dustin crying and, just for funsies, of Nancy calling him bullshit. Because that’s always somewhere in the mix, these days.

Fill it back up with music and movement. Not with drinks, because he still has to get himself back to Hawkins in one piece.

He goes and he dances and he sweats. Sometimes guys dance with him, and Steve goes with it. Who cares? No one knows him here, it doesn’t mean anything.

Turns out, it does mean something after all. 

When Steve finally stumbles his way out of the club, he finds none other than Eddie Munson sitting on the hood of the Beemer he’s been buying off of his parents in installments. (Their idea. It’s a ‘pay for it or lose it’ kind of deal.) 

The buzzing under his sweat-tacky skin—satisfaction at successfully getting out of his head—fizzles out. He keeps walking and stops when he draws even with the car. 

Eddie Munson, looking tired and prickling with restless energy, and exhales a cloud of smoke and vapor into the chilly air. “Hey, man. What’s a nice boy like you doing in a place like this?”

#steddie blackmail fic #steddie #steddie fic #stranger things fic #slow burn #steve harrington #dustin henderson #robin buckley #eddie munson #protective older brother steve harrington #steve harrington has bad parents #my fanfic

[obstinatecondolement]

Whenever I feel like this again I want to go back in time to tell my teenage self that they are not making it up and the pain they are in is not normal and they are not morally lacking for feeling too sick to go into school, or for having to come home sick so often with anxiety pain.

(um, having now written more of this post, I apparently have very intense feelings about this, so ... content warning for emotional abuse, ableism, and suicidal ideation)

Everyone being hard on me literally only made it worse and if even a token effort had been made to make school less upsetting for me instead of blaming me for being anxious and saying there was "no medical reason" for me to feel that fucking sick and in pain, so I must be faking it or being a wimp, maybe things would have turned out differently for me! It is not normal to be so sick and in so much pain people that think it might be appendicitis three fucking times! I was trying so hard and everyone told me I was a lying work-shy malingerer who refused to apply myself. I used to be so jealous when I'd hear about a distant cousin whose parents felt awful when they found out she wasn't faking being too tired to work and that she had a hole in her heart due to a congenital birth defect that made incredibly fatigued all the time, and they'd been getting angry with her and criticising her along similar lines to what people were telling me before she was diagnosed, when it "wasn't her fault." It wasn't my fault either! I used to fucking fantasise about being terminally ill, so I could die without directly killing myself, and so people would stop telling me there was "nothing wrong" with me and that "no one is sick all the time" (which, like, people with chronic illnesses and autoimmune conditions would like a word, lol).

People with psychosomatic pain are not faking it to get out of things! Psychosomatic does not mean that the pain isn't real! And feeling better if I was allowed to stay home doesn't mean that I was pretending to be sick to get out of going to school! Shockingly, when my acute anxiety was alleviated, I experienced less anxiety pain! But if it hadn't been I would have been in agony all day!

And like ... genuinely all that has changed is that this isn't a daily problem for me anymore. I still am treated like a naughty child when my mental illnesses flare up and I can't Meet My Commitments reliably. A friend once said to me, "Your family must be being very gentle with you right now" during a very severe depressive episode and it was like??? No??? Of course they aren't????? They are shouting at me every single day about how I am choosing to "opt out" of "living a normal adult life" and leeching off them. Like they always do when I get sick.

Whenever people are kind to me and don't treat me like a demanding lazy brat for being disabled, it's borderline triggering, because apparently it's that easy to be accomodating and to understand where I am coming from, and near strangers can show me more compassion than my entire immediate family do, and they can do it without even thinking twice about it.

If I was still in this much pain every day from anxiety they would never stop telling me it was my fault, and I would never ever get a reprieve from it, because they will never change.

#dúirt mé leat go raibh mé breoite

[lukehughesbabymama]

Luke Hughes Blurb

Getting sick in college is probably the easiest thing for a human to do.

Early into the second semester at school, you'd gotten frat flu and were down for the count. You had felt it building up over the past couple of days with a sore throat, headache, fatigue etc. But shit hit the fan on Tuesday night.

After finally falling asleep, you woke up shortly after, feeling violently nauseous. Without even checking the time you grabbed your phone and ran to the bathroom of the sorority house.

You started to throw up into the toilet and feel the full effects of your sickness. It was miserable. Though it wasn't long before your best friend walked into the bathroom disgruntled, and squinting from the bright bathroom lights.

"You hungover?", she asked, obviously half awake.

"Bitch I'm sick", you said lifting your head from the toilet bowl to look at her.

"Holy fuck you look like shit", she laughed a little.

As uncalled for as it was, she was right. You were pale, had bedhead paired with the worst eye bags in the universe, and were laying over a toilet.

"Thanks", you said sarcastically smiling, "What time is it?"

"Like 5:30. You got me up early for my 8 am, how sweet"

She sat on the grown next to you leaning against the wall behind her. She really did tend to you throughout the night though, rolling up a towel to lay your head on between yacking, and getting you water which you proceeded to throw back up 5 minutes later. Nevertheless, you were grateful.

It started to get closer to 8 and you were not doing any better. But you knew you had to get to the campus health center if you were going to survive another day.

"Come on y/n lets get you to health services", she suggested.

"No, I actually can't", you moaned, "I can't stand up or walk I'm not even kidding"

She huffed at your slight exaggeration.

"Well, I have to go to class soon" she trailed off.

"Ok, where's my phone, I'm just gonna call Luke"

Until that moment you had forgotten you had a boyfriend with a car whose hockey practice just ended at 7:30. And despite whatever front he would put up, he would move a mountain for you if you needed him to.

She passed you your phone from the bathroom counter, and you quickly called Luke.

"Hey"

"Hey"

"What's up babe?"

"I'm like dying so can you please come get me, and take me to health services?"

"Uh yeah. Where are you, the house?"

"Yeah just come up to the bathroom okay?"

"Are you good? You sound awful"

"No Luke. Please just hurry"

"Ok I'm coming"

"Thank you, love you"

"Love you"

"Bye", you hung up.

Within ten minutes, Luke stood in the doorway of the bathroom with your best friend a few minutes before she had to leave.

"She's been puking for like 3 hours"

"I can tell" he said trying not to laugh. He towered over you as you curled up on the cold bathroom tile. You looked up at him in hyperbolic offense from his comment.

"Don't be a dick Luke, I'm in pain"

He muttered a quick sorry before encouraging you to get up to go to the car.

"I can't get up"

"Are you serious?"

You just stared him down deadpan in response. The lack of women in his life is apparent in his awful care-taking skills. He took your facial expression as notion enough.

"Okay", he stated walking over to where you were on he ground, lowering his arms, motioning that he was going to pick you up. You reached up to his neck and he grabbed your waist to pull you up. You wrapped your legs around him and he adjusted his grip under your legs to begin to carry you out to the car. Your mind was foggy and tired especially now that you were resting in Luke's arms, but you quickly stopped him before he had even taken you out of the bathroom.

"Wait. I need shoes"

He placed you down on the bathroom counter and then went to your room without complaining to grab your slippers. When he returned a few minutes later you were slumped against the wall. He grabbed the back of your left calf, lifting it up toward him and slipped on your shoe with his other hand. He did the same to your other foot and picked you up again, but bridal style this time.

You still had your arms wrapped around his neck and he noticed your eyes close out of exhaustion. He realized then that you truly were in a truly bad state. He carried you all the way out to where his car was parked and began to open the door to put you in the passenger seat.

As he placed you down rather gently he said "Babe, if you puke in here I'm leaving your ass on the side of the road"

No matter how ill you were though, you never let his attitude go uncontested, "Can you shut the fuck up and just be nice Luke, I'm sick. I swear the next time I give you head I'm gonna yack all over your dick"

"Wouldn't be the first time", he replied, clicking in your seat belt and closing your door.

You were truly done with his attitude and wondered how even in the state you were in he could still be a snarky little fucker. At the same time though, it didn't slip your attention that he rushed to your house without question, got your shoes, and carried you all the way to his car after his early morning practice.

The drive was quiet as you fought sleep. You made it the whole way before falling asleep in the waiting room. Luke woke you up when the doctors were ready to see you though, and waited outside until you were done. Despite being a hardass on you that day, he did take very good care of you in silent ways and wouldn't want anyone else to do it but himself.

#lh43 #lukehughes #umichhockey

[mlmxreader]

Doctor | Laszlo Kreizler x gn!reader

@king-trash-cryptid asked: This isnt on the prompt list but could you write something with Laszlo and a sick reader?

summary: Laszlo drops everything to help you get better when you're sick, quite literally everything.

tws: swearing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of smoking, sickness

Laszlo didn't like it one bit. Being sick was awful enough to see in his patients, in those he treated and those he tried to help, but seeing his own partner sick was completely different; his steady hand would shake and he would drop everything if you so much as grumbled and coughed, he wouldn't forgive himself if he didn't help you to get better. He hated seeing you so unwell. Even though you reassured him time and time again that you were fine, that you just had a cold and you would be right as rain in a matter of days, he was determined to help you get better.

He asked for your family's traditional recipes, which were sent to him through the post and written in partially smudged ink but still legible; he could remember a few of his own, recipes for soups and stews and broths that would certainly help. He had a recipe for practically every day of the week, something for you to at least look forward to despite your lack of appetite; although it was a hard thing to come across and it costed more than Laszlo was ready to admit, he made sure that there was ice for you to have in every drink you could stomach.

Laszlo knew, though, he knew it wouldn't last but he was still more than determined to help you through it; he gave you medication, he fed you, he gave you whatever you could stomach when it came to drinks, he swapped the duvet on the bed for a thinner blanket, he opened the windows. The fever wasn't too bad, it was more the coughing and the lack of appetite that concerned him.

The lack of energy was another thing, but fatigue and lethargy were known to make an appearance during illness; still, it was something that he kept his eye on. Especially because you were so determined to try and move around and to get about your day. He wasn't having that.

Everyone had been told not to visit Laszlo, mostly so he could focus on looking after you, but also because you had told him not to have anyone over in case they could get sick from you; it worked out either way.

But as he sat there now, laid next to you and looking at you with great concern, Laszlo gently pressed the back of his hand to your sweat soaked forehead.

"How is it, Doc?" You joked weakly, your voice hoarse and raw and the words stinging and scraping as they fell from your mouth.

Laszlo wiped the back of his hand on his shirt, and smiled a little. "You're not as feverish as you were. Do you think you'll be able to sleep?"

A rattling cough gave him his answer, but you still tried your best to smile at him. "I can try... I can go downstairs and sleep on the sofa so you can have a quiet night."

Laszlo shook his head, pulling at your arm gently until he could lace his fingers with yours, holding on tightly as he cracked a smile. "I'm not going anywhere. One night's sleep being missed won't mean anything."

You glared at him, trying not to laugh because you knew it would make your ribs ache and would make your chest tighten and feel like it was being stabbed with a blunt axe. "Yet you have a go at me about staying up."

"I have to," he said quietly. "I... I care about you, and I don't want you to be in pain."

You huffed, nodding and daring to wriggle up against his side, sighing heavily and coughing for a while before you groaned and swallowed thickly, able to feel mucous and phlegm at the back of your throat, the sticky texture of it making you want to gag and retch. "Laszlo?"

"Yes?"

"I love you," you whispered. "But tomorrow... no fucking soup, or stew, or broth or whatever the fuck. I'm sick of that shit."

"You're sick," he pointed out. "It'll help."

"So would a chilie, or a curry," you told him.

Laszlo hummed. "I can see what I can do about it... maybe Cyrus can take me to town and I can get some things but... would you be alright?"

"Yeah," you said gently, trying to be soft on your own throat. "I'm sick, I'm not dying. Or stupid."

He nodded, able to feel your sweat drip down on his shirt, a small pool of it starting to form; a shirt could be cleaned, though, you being sick wouldn't be cured overnight. "Is there anything you need? Medicine, water, food, or-"

"I'd kill for a cigarette," you admitted.

"You're sick, smoking isn't going to help," he grumbled. "I meant anything to help you relax."

"A lick of whisky wouldn't do much harm," you mused. "You got any of that hanging about?"

"Actually, yes," he nodded. "I'll get it in a minute."

"Thank you."

if you liked this fic, REBLOG IT - you SHOULD reblog it; spam likers WILL be blocked. as will blogs that refuse to reblog or to give feedback. if you don't wanna reblog, then you'll get blocked; reblogging is the BARE MINIMUM. don't just "like", REBLOG

#mlem writes #dr laszlo kreizler #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo kreizler #the alienist imagine #the alienist #daniel brühl x you #daniel brühl imagine #daniel brühl x reader #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl imagine #daniel bruhl x you #daniel bruhl x reader #daniel bruhl

[jadedbirch]

Happy New Year, friends! 🥳

As 2022 winds down over here on the West Coast, I wanted to take a moment to remember the good things that happened, even though so many terrible, awful things happened and are still happening (fuck you, Putler!) across the world.

This was actually a really good year for me and my wife! We spent a lot of time together in San Francisco, Canada, and Italy this year, and Amy and our Daughter are living with me as of December 13! 🎉 Please admire our somft bebby:

I got a new job this year! And I had no idea I could be so happy at work 💕💕💕 My boss is so nice and really appreciates and respects my expertise and is just an all around non-douchebag. All my colleagues are a delight. I'm having so much growth and I feel so invigorated and actually excited about the work and the science that my colleagues are doing!

We finally figured out a drug combo I can take to manage my chronic pain and fatigue and I've been doing a lot better! Hooray for being able to get out of bed 👍

Our trip to Italy was amazing! We saw many friends and did lots is great shit and ate ALL the incredible food. And I got certified as an energy healer while I was in Italy and that too has made a huge difference in helping me deal with my flare ups - very exciting!

(This is a photo from Hadrian's Villa)

I read 40 books! Which is honestly pretty amazing because usually I only read this much when I'm super sick and I haven't been. And even though I haven't written anything since this summer, I still managed to write over 158K words in 2022, which yay!

Overall, it's just felt like the first time in a very long time that I don't feel stagnant and frustrated. Amy and I are finally moving forward together and while we're still waiting on the US government to get their shit together and give her a green card, we're planning on selling my tiny condo soon so we can get a bigger place together that would allow us both to work remotely and not be on top on each other as we have been during this transitional time. It's gonna be so chaotic, so wish us luck!

I'm thankful for all of you who have stuck with me even though I haven't been very active on social media. I love you guys and hope only wonderful things come your way in the new year 💜💜💜

#about me #2022

[smtiv]

.

i don't really feel like talking about this on my public twitter but i have a need to vent about this and also just to help me get the timeline correct in my head.

so two years ago in november 2021 i was sick with strep throat. it took three different dumbass doctors to properly test and diagnose me and by then i was being overprescribed antibiotics. after finishing those, i got a yeast infection of course, which i took OTC suppositories for and i think that got rid of it (honestly i just didn't want to see a doctor again lol). fast-forward to january 2022 and i start experiencing weird throat symptoms (difficulty swallowing, lump feeling in the throat, coughing/choking etc). i thought i was sick with strep again but everything was coming up negative.

a couple months later i go see an ENT doctor and he says i have silent reflux, prescribes me a PPI and tells me to decrease acidic foods in my diet. that only made it worse. i stopped taking them after three months. then i go see a GI doctor for an endoscopy and this guy fucking sucked. at my follow-up he didn't even go over my results with me, just said "everything's fine. you're young and healthy so stay positive." to this day i still want to throttle him. when i saw my primary doctor she actually went over my results and said they found gastritis and esophagitis. suggested i go on a low-fodmap diet. that doesn't change anything and i continue to lose weight, feel sick all the time, fatigued, increasingly anxious and depressed, throat issues are persisting, and this continues into 2023 when i have a massive meltdown and spiraled pretty much for the entire year. my health got worse, my allergies got worse (suddenly have a peanut allergy when i've never had any reactions to it before), i suddenly developed asthma and it's been impossible to cope.

in november last year i saw another ENT who suggested i see another GI doctor to get more internal testing done. but for some reason his referral was invalid (?) and they refused to schedule me so i played phone tag with them and my primary doctor's office for 3 weeks before giving up. earlier this week i saw a naturopathic doctor and after going over my symptoms she believes it's a candida overgrowth that started in my gut and has now invaded my entire system because the antibiotics completely wiped out the healthy bacteria. cool. i got thorough blood tests done and i took a stool test kit home to mail back to them. i have a follow up in less than two weeks to go over my results and hopefully discuss treatment and supplements. i've made some changes to my diet the past couple weeks which has helped me regain weight and lessened my symptoms a little but it's not enough currently.

i really just want my life back and the stress has been killing me. this shit causes the worst brain fog i've ever experienced in my life and i can barely enjoy drawing, reading, writing, studying etc anymore. i have to be so careful about what i eat, my breathing and sinuses are awful, i can't sleep. it sucks. i just hope i can heal from this.

#discussing health issues

[mkakki]

Wholehearted

Word Count: 2839

Part one of I'm not sure yet-

AFAB reader, pregnancy warning, medical warning? I'm not sure but there's a baby involved. I'm already sorry for this. I have horrific brain rot and I think Osamu would accidentally fuck up like this.

Osamu was worried, and it began to bleed into every other aspect of his life. He was worried, and he couldn’t express it properly, but it was manifesting into stressing over you. He found himself unable to sit still, fussing and prodding and doing everything he could to try and ease the tension in your shoulders. Even his knife cuts at Onigiri Miya were rather sloppy, and while to the untrained eye it still looked relatively uniform, he knew better. Every sigh and hand run hastily through his hair was just a nervous tic.

“Samu,” your voice was soft, and it caressed him even as the remainder of the dinner rush was subsiding. He didn’t hesitate to put the dish in his hand down, already calling out to a staff member that he would be back in just a minute. He ushered you into the small cramped office where he tried to keep on top of the book keeping for the blossoming restaurant (admittedly you did most of it). Though lately you hadn’t had much energy for anything, which was what had him so worked up.

The last few weeks had rendered the routine you two had built up useless, and while it had irked him initially, the irritation had faded into nothing more than worry and anxiety. You had been fatigued, unable to eat, and unbearably sick. He was no health expert, but the fact that you couldn’t choke down soup, let alone stand to be in the restaurant for more than a few minutes before needing to excuse yourself, wasn’t normal.

“Are you okay?” It was weighted, and he was already gathering you up in his arms. Though it felt more like he was comforting himself at this point. The familiar smell of your shampoo, the softness of your body pressed firmly against his. It all felt so real, cemented how alive you felt in his arms. Even if you were frail from your poor health in the recent weeks.

“I’m okay, I promise.” It was muffled against his shoulder, your grip like a vice on his arms. You never really minded how sweaty and grimy he was after a rush at work. Though you always made him shower before he was allowed near your shared bed.

“What did the doctor say?” He had never minded being unable to pull away from work before, he knew when to make time for you. Today you had waved him off with a promise to call with any important news. The fact you chose to show up instead of calling made a weight settle in his stomach. You pulled back enough to search his face, eyes level and calm despite the anxiety he knew you felt as well. His blood felt thick, like it might just freeze in his veins if you didn’t ease his fear. 

“ I’m sorry-” a roaring picked up in his ears as your eyes welled up with tears. He immediately jumped to the worst case. You must be dying, it must be something really awful for you to already be crying and unable to let out what it was they had said to you. He felt heat prick at his own eyes.

You pulled papers out of your purse around quiet little sobs, seemingly unable to speak. He took them, frantically scanning the pages. Looking for the words terminal. Cancer. Any one of the horrible things he was envisioning. 

“A baby?” Relief washed over him in warm, soothing waves. It unthawed his blood, and sent his heart back to pounding in his ears. 

“I’m so sorry Samu-” He discarded the papers on the cluttered desk to his left, hands coming up to cradle your tear streaked face. 

He understood the tears. You two had just discussed children, and the potential surrounding them. You had wanted to think it over, and Osamu had wanted to be better established with his business. Neither of you found fault in each others reasons for wanting to wait it out, and Osamu had promised the rest of his life to you. 

Oh. Oh no.

“ I need you to wait here. I just- I need a minute.” He was starting to panic all over again. How could he be so stupid? He had made it apparent that he belonged to you, body and soul. Stupid Tsumu was always joking that the two of you were the most nauseating married couple. But that was the thing. Osamu had been stupid enough to wait. He wanted the moment to be just right before he officially asked that you be his wife, but then you had gotten sick. He could feel his Ma smacking him now. For as much as he loved and adored you, he couldn’t even make an honest woman out of you. Though if you were in your right mind you’d tell him how outdated that sounded and roll your eyes. 

He rushed out of the room in search of his coat, unwittingly leaving you behind. 

When he returned, you weren’t there. Your medical papers were still on his desk, proclaiming the pregnancy, but you weren’t. He swore under his breath and hastily untied his apron, tossing it haphazardly onto the desk. He called out an apology to his concerned staff, and left the rest of the evening cleanup to the remaining employees. They all called out their well wishes, having only partially witnessed what had transpired between the two of you. The air outside was brisk, a stark contrast to the rather humid air of the kitchen, and it burned his lungs. He wracked his brain frantically for where you could have gone, only after trying to call you several times with no success. You were ignoring him. 

“Tsumu, I need your help.” It wasn’t often he would admit to needing his twin, so despite the relatively late hour, Tsumu was all ears as Osamu rattled off the last 30 minutes of his life. Hoping that Tsumu would be able to give some input in to where you could have gone. Other than Osamu, Tsumu was the only other person who knew you almost as well. 

You three had grown up together, after all. 

He tried to comb over the whole interaction. What he could have done to make you run, what sort of feelings you could have been experiencing. The little black box in his pocket suddenly felt as if it weighed a thousand pounds. 

“Samu ya scrub. Yer a real grade A idiot for this one. She’s probably thinkin you were gonna bolt.” The horrible realization finally dawned on him. He wasn’t sure of what his face was doing, but it was probably some sort of shock. And then he said he needed a minute. He stupidly left you there to spiral out of control and then leave. You probably thought that he was trying to find out how to tell you that he wasn’t ready at all. 

His chest squeezed painfully, heart thundering away. 

You had a stuffed animal clutched to your chest, eyes large and watery. Just a few inches from you stood one of their classmates, a boy who had several inches on your slight frame. Osamu could see the wobble of your bottom lip from where he sat with Tsumu, and it sent an insurmountable amount of rage through his little body. Without saying anything, he stomped his way over to where you stood, elbowing the other boy out of the way and demanding his full attention. 

“ Whaddaya want Miya?” The other boy sneered, having obviously been teasing you about something. Unfortunately you had a sensitive disposition, which labeled you as a perfect target for boys like this.

“I want ya ta leave my friend alone, you big idiot!” When there was no sign that the other boy was inclined to leave, Osamu pounced. He threw a good punch, and the other boy was scampering off, leaving you still tearful and whimpering. Even Tsumu, who had finally wandered over, had made attempts to comfort you. You, however, paid him no mind and instead threw your arms around Osamu’s neck wailing loudly. 

“Samu yer such a dummy! He hurt you!” Before the dimwit had run away, he had managed to land one good hit on Osamu. He was unmatched in determination though, and Osamu had prevailed. Though it did result in a split lip. His ears burned hotly as you comforted him, tears lining your lashes. 

“Ma is gonna be so mad,” Tsumu laughed. Osamu glared at his brother over your head, who only stuck his tongue out in return.

He felt as if his world was crashing down around him with each place he checked. Your favorite cafe? No. The local park? No. He was beginning to grow desperate in his attempts to find you.

Osamu had admired your determination. He watched you toil through studies while also helping out the team with their own. You became a fixture that they all grew accustomed too, most of them starting to look at you like a kid sister. Aran had never been opposed to driving off some sniveling boy who came sniffing around. Even now, Tsumu was doing crunches as you quizzed him about an upcoming exam.

“C’mon Tsumu, ya idiot. These are simple questions. We studied em last night! What were ya doin, droolin over some girl instead of listening?” You smacked him lightly with your textbook, brows furrowed with annoyance. Osamu snickered in amusement. 

“Better be careful ya scrub, she’ll be comin for ya next.” Tsumu rubbed the sore spot on his forehead where you had repeatedly beaten him over the head. 

“Samu actually pays attention when we study,” you supplied, hefting the book once more. Osamu would never admit that it wasn’t necessarily the studying he was so invested in, rather it was the fact that you were the one shoving his nose into a book. He would never admit it but he would do just about anything if it meant bringing a smile to your face. 

“Kita-San, you should make this idiot run extra laps. Maybe if he can’t use his brain he can use his muscle.” You gave a toothy grin to Tsumu who groaned, knowing full well that their captain would play along with your little plot. 

“Ma, I messed up.” He was starting to cry in earnest now, chest heaving as fat tears rolled down his cheeks. He knew he was disheveled and sweaty, the smell of the restaurant still clinging to his clothes. He had run all the way home in a desperate plea for help. If there was something he didn’t know, his Ma knew it for sure. The woman had spent just as much time mothering you as she did him. And now, wrapped up in her robe and looking a bit pissed off, she pulled at his ear.

“I thought I raised you better than this, Osamu! What made ya think that this was the way to respond?” She was throttling him earnestly, tugging him around by his ear as he pleaded to be released. What she was talking about exactly, he wasn’t sure, but she was worked up for certain. 

It wasn’t until he caught a glimpse of your puffy, tear streaked face did he understand. Why didn’t he think to check here? 

“Miya Osamu, you saw what it was like for me raisin’ the two of ya, so what in yer right mind would make it okay for ya to do this?” She smacked him once more over the head, scowling heavily. He barely felt it anymore, brushing past his mother to get to you. Initially, you tried to move away, deeper into his childhood home, but he managed to grab you. Albeit gently, but he managed to snag your arm before you retreated entirely. He dropped to his knees, face pressed to your abdomen as the feelings of the evening had finally washed over him. The fearful moment he thought you had left still racking his body with sobs. 

“Samu?” Your voice sounded watery and thick, and he held onto you tighter. He almost forgot that he needed to be careful. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so- I’m so sorry.” Distantly he heard his mother huff behind him, seemingly satisfied to see her son groveling on his knees like this. He was ashamed to know you thought he’d really leave you over something like this, you had seen what it was like growing up. 

“Dontcha ever think of what he woulda been like?” You sat beside him on a log, pretty sundress already streaked with dirt from the impromptu hike it had taken to get to this hidden sanctuary. He could hear his Ma reprimanding him, telling him it wasn’t proper anymore for the two of you to be wandering off alone like this since the two of you were grown. People might get the wrong impression. Even though Osamu didn’t care of people talked. In his mind, it was already very clear that he had carved out a space for himself in your life. 

“Don’t really care,” he grunted, preoccupied with seeing how far he could throw rocks into the pond laid out before the two of you. He had grown up without a father, just like you. Incidentally, both of your mothers had been close friends during their pregnancies, and stayed just as close after the births of their children. The fact that he and Tsumu were five months your senior was something neither of them would let you live down. 

“I use to wonder what it was like. Mitsuki, the girl in our class, use to tell me I could borrow her Pa if I wanted.” You shrugged dismissively, but Osamu knew better. There had been plenty of father-daughter dances you had tearfully sat out of. But you weren’t a snot nosed little kid anymore. You were on your way to being an adult, as was he. And sometimes his mind pinpointed the differences between the two of you. Where he was all gangly limbs and awkwardness, you had started to blossom into something else. A young lady, his Ma would say when reminding him he needed to make sure to be nice to you. 

You always wrinkled your nose when people said things of that nature to you. Ain’t nothin’ lady like about you, you’d grouse. The fact that you drug him along on a surprise hike because your friend Mitsuki had told you about a hidden pond told him as much. 

Did Mitsuki bring that boy that was always sniffing around her here?

“Samu, are ya in there?” You prodded the side of his face, which was screwed up in concentration. “You busy day dreamin’ ‘bout Shin-Chan again?” He felt his mouth twist into a scowl. 

As much as he respected and liked his captain, he didn’t like the fact that you seemed to hold just as much respect. And then some. Lately you’d gotten tongue tied around the other boy, blushing a bit when you fumbled words. It made Osamu feel sick. 

“Don’t say dumb stuff like that. I’d rather admit Tsumu is better than I am.” You chuckled, plucking a few strands of grass that sprouted as tall as your waist. 

Did Mitsuki tell you about this place so you could bring Kita? Did you drag Osamu along so you could scope it out?

“Okay okay, I get it. But I was sayin’ that I wonder if they ever think of us? Like if they care ‘bout the kids they left.” You looked wistful, and as Osamu studied your profile, he thought he may have seen your lip wobble. 

“We don’t need em. ‘Sides, stupid Tsumu and I can chase all those poser scrubs away from ya.” You laughed, shoving at his arm playfully as you protested weakly. 

He held onto you now as if you were his lifeline, the one thing keeping him tethered to the world. He certainly felt as if he could float away at any moment, buoyed by the affection that began to make his heart swell. Now that he had gotten over the fear and shock, he was ready to do what needed to be done. 

“I just- I just didn’t want ya ta think that I was doin’ this jus’ cuz’ of what’s happenin’.” He rasped, shuffling back awkwardly to see your face. That little box that use to weigh a thousand pounds all but floated out of his pocket, and once it caught your eye you let out a small squeak. He was happy to have his Ma there to see, but he felt bad about barging into her home at a late hour. 

“Samu, you big idiot!” He didn’t even get the words out before you were pulling him up to his feet, arms flung around his neck. Fresh tears dampened his shirt as you began to bawl all over again. 

It was with shaky hands that he slid the ring onto your finger, heart swelling all the while.

#osamu miya #readerinsert #haikyuu!! #pregnancy #emotional #hq #osamu #miya #osamu imagine

[gingerbravecookie]

it sure has been a year: cursor's kind of retrospective (or resume idk) on 2022

happy new years everybody,, or new years eve depending on where you live at the time of reading this

I'll go straight to the point 2022 has been one of the most mixed bag of a year I've had since i have the memory

The start of the year was kinda cool honestly,, the weather in my country was great and i was starting to get new interests,, of course also expecting you know what games near the end of it,, going back to normal class was weird and tiring but i got to make new friends and recconect with old ones i hadn't talked to since the start of the pandemic,, i got to see the coolest fucking movie at the start of april and i loved it,, i had also met kit and joined pocket home and i met good people in there shout out to everyone,, the start of the year seemed pretty good

and then things started going downhill

for starters right at my birthday i started feeling kinda weird,, specially my nose felt funny,, the next day at school i was barely on my feet,, with my entire respiratory system in shambles,, with an awful fatigue and trembling every single moment,, i wanted to go to the nurse's office but i persisted due to having to show a cosplay i worked hard on that same day

long story short the next day arrived and i got positive for covid,, i spent two weeks at home

it didn't help that i missed multiple tests due to quarantine and had to do 5 the same day,, my stress level was on the god damn clouds

in that next month i caught colds and stuff way more easily but hey,, it was june!!! pride month!!! Gay month!!!! also i had finally decided to get into artfight and was ready to make refs for my oc's

Also i had made my very own server and got to meet cool people!!! shout out to kino,, harp and jaz

and then right before winter break started and got time to work on them and the event itself my knee snapped off

yes it did hurt like hell,, i went to the hospital and luckily i didn't need surgery but it was still awful,, i got out of the thing at 3 am and i couldn't even move

I spent the first few days of july on bed,, when i finally was able to barely walk again i got to do a few art fight attacks but then my family from the capital arrived and i couldn't access my laptop for two weeks,, i was pretty bummed out i barely got to do attacks AND that i had to be almost every single day to the doctor in order to heal my leg

also i joined ballcord and then maincord as my cookie run interest started coming back to me

anyways september came along and of course it was independence day for chile,, cool date tbh,, and i decided one of the most drastic meassures i took on my irl image,, i cut my hair

"what's the great deal with that" thing is i've had my hair pretty long and i didn't like cutting it at all,, but as i grew i pretty much realized i was growing out of it and it also became more tiring after it getting tangled everywhere,, best desicion of my life tbh it felt great

I got the funni squid game 3 as well

well i also continued getting sick as a downside of things,, which was weird as fuck since years prior i only got sick at least once a year

my school situation became worse every day,, my grades started lowering and to top that. i started getting bullied. again

i had been on that school since 10 fucking years and they still fucking bullied me,, none of the teachers did shit about it

my mom got an interview at school where they took account of my anger issues and fucking guess what happened there

after years and years of asking i finally got therapy

proper therapy as i had a meeting with one of them before and he just said i was a spoiled child lmao

so news!! I'm pretty much part of the autistic spectrum,, with very minor traits according to my therapist but yeah pretty much that

she's a cool person,, she really helps me and i mean that in a genuine way

my family. well,, they're trying,, our relationship has gone two sides and sometimes made me feel kinda shitty tbh,, anyways back to topic

even if my teacher knew about the bullying it still got worse and worse from heavy verbal abuse to almost physical attacks

the school said they would talk to the bullies and me to get to an agreement and then. never talked to me again

it would all come to a close in early november,, after i snapped in front of the whole class about it

i had a massive panic attack

i had to ask my mom to come get me early and i had to talk to the teachers where it turns out. they talked to the bitches but never to me.

if i had known that then i could have told them so they would actually stop

and then they started twisting the blame onto me for staying quiet when they didn't fucking tell me shit to start

anyways,, my mom decided i wouldn't go to that school again,, i have been home ever since,, we are hoping another school accepts me in the meantime

As of social media well. i have gotten into a few projects i want to really get through,, i still need to do owed art and i apologize for making it so late. i really really do

my first comic project,, a game (RPG maker Is a bitch sometimes btw) and of course my askblogs and au's,, I'll try to get them fully moving in 2023,, i really want for everyone to see what i have to tell storywise

also i hope i stop getting sicker lmao

i guess this Is going nowhere tbh,, kind of a long resume of the shit that happened to me this year and an excuse for why i barely post decent art and ideas here nowdays (sorry),, but hey at least i met cool people

thanks for sticking around Is pretty much what i have to say

2022 has been kind of a bitch,, here's to hoping 2023 Is at least a little bit better

happy new years everyone,, happy to still be here

-cursor

#sonic speaks

[abcdosaka]

the life update 2.0

the unformatted stream of consciousness edition

i started working on monday. it's alright, been connecting with ppl, not being overly shy but i'm still adjusting to actually working 8 hours straight bc i've been doing legit nothing for 5 months straight. the people at my workplace are nice enough especially the ladies like there's one who i was lowkey scared of bc she kinda has a rbf and just looks so girlboss and professional but i messaged her and we talked and she's actually really nice :) anyway i've had enough work experience being the new guy and onboarding online that i'm not as scared as i would've been + i already know people at this company so i can kinda show my worth from the start

i got my period on friday and i was fucked up yesterday and today from cramps/headache so i got barely anything done so i need to do some work tmr cry T_T i need to remember work is not school i can't just procrastinate everything and i should actually work during and only during work hours. i give myself a pass though bc friday was just awful. also i was supposed to learn python before i started working but i didn't but idk feel like i can wing it there. i already know r and i learned java in highschool so it might actually be a breeze not to toot my own horn but i'm like pretty smart so

it feels like my pms (except its not really pre- more like first/second day of period) symptoms are getting worse the older i get. sometimes the symptoms are okay but more of them are just awful than not. i get really nasty headaches and intense fatigue for one, really bad cramps, joint pain and lower back pain, sometimes my boobs swell up and are really tender (compared to the normal level of tender), i'm either very irritable or sad, i feel like i can't eat and i'm bloated or gassy, i'm like constipated but i also need to shit all the time. like i cannot focus with these conditions. i couldn't this week bc its legit my first week lmao but i might start taking sick days for really bad periods. also maybe bc i took a walk before i started work but my allergies were REALLY bad all day

idk if it's my body aging (which is crazy bc i'm not even 23) or if it's bc i don't exercise as much as i should but idk i still do, like yes i do sit on my ass a LOT but i use the exercise bike a couple times a week and i lift a little bit (not as much as i used to). i haven't been able to go swimming in a while bc i think i had a uti (i didn't bother going to the doctor bc i've gotten 2 in like the last year and i hate taking antibiotics so i was like man lets just wait this out) and now i'm on my period. but other than that i swim pretty frequently.

the only issue w me is i'm a homebody but thats just bc i have almost no friends in my city lmao. esp since n has moved. (i kinda wanna call her but idk our in person chats are always so much better than calls like slight tangent but i can never hear her on the phone lmao)

honestly not mad at it like. did we only talk to each other out of circumstance? i think it's just a fact of life that most of our friends are borne from necessity at work school etc but once that ends only a few of them, maybe 1 or 2, will really stick around. but still like most ppl from uni i just don't think i'll ever talk to again and i wonder if that should matter to me or not. ngl sometimes the loneliness hits me but i don't think i've really lost my social skills in fact i think i've gotten a lot better compared to this time last year like sept 2022 - april 2023 was just a downward spiral for my social skills everything was so hard and my anxiety was prob the worst it had ever been and i wasn't very forgiving of myself. maybe bc i spend a lot of time at home but also i just don't really have a hard time talking to randos on games or in shops or whatever now. idk maybe i give less of a shit now or maybe my solitude is making my ego rise like it tends to.

i heard that was a thing, like if you spend too much time alone your sense of self becomes insanely inflated or deflated there is no middle ground. kinda facts like people are weird

but anyways i feel, for the most part, pretty chill these days. i think i could stand up for myself better now vs in the past. i texted sp again to say like "we should make plans" but i set up the last plan and like i drove her home last time too and we met at this kinda lame plaza bc she had an errand nearby so if she doesn't start the convo this time then i legit can't be arsed like i'll never talk to her again bc i'm gonna return the same effort i get. in fairness she told me that work is really exhausting for her and her commute is ridiculous like she lives by fucking farmland and has to take public transit everywhere bc she doesn't have a car. but we've never been close and i don't think our sense of humour or what we're interested in is all that similar so i get why she's not feelin it honestly me neither. no hard feelings but i will drop her tho.

holy shit this post is loooonggg. i'm not even done writing about shit but i think thats it for the life stuff so i'll make a new one

[stormwinddeliveries]

Day 3 5/15

Journal Entry: *Noodles hand writing is immaculate. Near calligraphy.*

Today was better than yesterday. Even if I felt the worst today than I did yesterday, somehow, surprisingly. Considering I did feel actually awful yesterday. Though I suppose that was more emotional than physical. This one, how I'm feeling right now, is certainly more physical than emotional. Which is why its both a better day and a...worse day? 

Morrigan is sick and really didn't sleep well last night. If she slept at all, really. Then with Jasper still recovering and my body not seeming to be kicking my own cold, or whatever it is, as much as I'd like it to? My body is just fatigued beyond its limit. Which is good I haven't been drinking because boy, would I feel so much worse and bogged down if I had been. I just wish the two felt better, and everything finally worked out for longer than a day or two at max. 

No one from the Faire showed up for the market tonight. Normally I would have peddled my bread and stuff but I was feeling too gods awful to even humor peddling my own wares. While I was saving the spot for the Faire however, someone I knew from Westfall showed up. I pulled a gun on him. He pulled a gun on me. We laughed. His lady got real weird and angry that he talked to me at all. Spinning this whole thing about some fucking jealous nonsense I don't understand. Granted I don't really get jealous women. Or women who try and gaslight their partners into doing shit through that kinda behavior. Toddler behavior, bad. 

The guy also offered me work since I mentioned I didn't have fifty-six gold to drop on a cloak like his woman did. But I declined the offer. Mostly from the look he gave but also knowing that nothing good comes out of Westfall unless its good brought by your own hand. So I feel rather proud of that for myself. Even if shortly after that I up and just left the market area cause his lady was almost thrown out and I was too tired to deal with her all out yelling. I hate when people cause issues in public thinking its charming or something. 

Then I think I full on fell asleep outside the Lamb on the wall. Couldn't tell you for how long I was out, but I certainly was gone to the world for a good little bit. When I woke up I went on a walk, and ran into Miss Alice along with some few other friends. She introduced me to one of hers AND I got to hold a slime pet...thing. Someone had! The slimes name was Jim and if anything happens to Jim I'm killing everyone and then myself. 

Around there I went to the clinic to get my throat and stuff looked at. The doctor person said they were pretty sure my tonsils are infected, and they gave me medicine to take. Saying I should be feeling better by tomorrow. Hope it isn't like that medicine that makes you poop cause it kills all your inner gut stuff. I fucking hate that medicine. 

After THAT, I went back to the group of friends. As they all trickled off to go to bed, my friend Flowers and I were the sole few that remained. Which means it lead to us kind of just...talking. We talked about a lot of surprisingly deep stuff. About his old work, elections, his role in society, our own experience with drinking. He gave me three sticks of chewing gum to entertain myself with! I don't think I'm going to chew them, but instead, keep them as anxiety mementos to hold in my pocket. Like how I use carrying around this journal as a way to distract my hands when I'm reading for something. It all couldn't come at a better time too, because, well. 

I normally don't make it longer than three days. This being the third lets me know that this sobriety thing is about to get way, way, way harder. I'm certain everyone thinks the hard part has started or something. But really my own threshold for time hasn't even begun. I don't know where I'd be if it weren't for Jasper, Morgie, my friends...I would have likely drank yesterday. Drank today. Might have even drank tomorrow for all I know.

Lynn

[keefwho]

October 29 - 2022

9:33 AM

It’s frustrating when someone clearly expects certain behaviors from me, especially when they are outdated. I never considered that even close friends can end up dumbing me down into a static character and holding onto that idea of me long after I change. And then they think something is “wrong” because I’m not fitting into the mold they made for me. Then we grow apart and the only thing that will stop it is if they understand and accept that I’m changing. All I want is some patience and less guilting. 

3:32 PM

I found a really weird looking spot on my armpit today, straight up it looks like it needs to get checked out and dealt with. I’m a little worried about it because skin cancer isn’t usually as bad as other cancers but it’s still a big deal. AND it means I gotta go allll the way to the doctor. I’m giving it 2 days to see what it does. It’s possible it’s an injury I don’t remember getting or something else that will go away. Its likely even. I hate having to wait and see. I’ve had a couple cancer scares in the past when I was a more unrealistic hypochondriac. I’m not trying to jump to that conclusion but this time it REALLY looks concerning. 

Right now I’m at the very beginning stage where I’m kinda freaking out and I don’t know what to do with myself right now. I know soon I’ll calm down and find a way to take my mind off of it. 

5:54 PM

Trying really hard not to get too far into my own head right now. I have nothing to be worried about but I just feel bad. I think this is the culmination of a day where I haven’t wanted to do anything at all and can’t think properly. I’ve felt awful. Very bored and kinda dreadful. Now Im panicking about nothing really, but whats new. I’ll feel better, thats all I can hope for. This just happens sometimes.

7:46 PM

I tummy hurted and I don’t know what caused it as usual. I hate when nights are basically ruined like this. It’s also happened the past few weekends. I thought maybe it’s having a drink Friday night but this starts Friday morning. 

8:31 PM

I wish I knew why I got so miserable sometimes. Why I don’t feel like doing anything at all. Like my life is meaningless or I have no potential. 

9:18 PM

I feel shitty and I’m trying to convince myself that I’m fine. I just fee fatigued but it’s probably because of how hard I worked out early. Also I’ve been bored and sluggish all day. My head feels kinda bad but I’ve felt like this before and it’s been nothing. I keep checking my temperature about every 30 minutes and it’s maybe .5 above normal MAX, which is actually a little strange because it tends to be very consistent. But it might all be in my head.

Why does this happen to me. I just want to get in VRchat and socialize, or chill and relax on my own. Instead I’m cuddled up panicking trying to take my mind off of things with a Twitch stream and BOTW. Constantly thinking about how fucked in the head I am and all the things I’m missing out on. I feel awful about myself. Other people aren’t like this. 

The horrific truth is that one day I’ll get sick, it’s basically unavoidable. I need to stop being so afraid of it. It’s just a short period of misery and then I’m back to normal. I always try to imagine what my life would be like if I wasn’t thinking about getting sick all the time. There are so many moments I could enjoy more and things I could feel comfortable doing. 

11:35 PM

The good thing about tonight is my fear level was pretty low the whole time. I more-so felt cautious and just wanted to relax. Hopefully tomorrow will be better. I don’t want another boring, melancholic day that ends with anxiety. 

12:25 PM

It’s easy to forget that the world is so much bigger than my room. There are hundreds of people in my area every day that don’t have the worries I do. They have bigger things to worry about. And when I actually have bigger things to worry about, I can usually put my daily fears aside. I really do make my own problems.