#I sew because I can’t afford therapy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

entireoranges · 1 year

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Old fashion ramble post

I need to find away to work on my self confidence. The sad thing is I know I have mentioned this before. It’s easy to say “I need to such and such.” but it’s far harder to actually do something about it.

Last few months (longer?) I have been getting all these crafting project ideas and to be honest 98% are quite easily and attainable and if focus and forced myself to do them I’d be fine. The thing is I convince myself before I start that it will be .. dumb, no one will like it, I can’t actually do it, etc and I don’t do anything.

It doesn’t help that though she means well but my mom is like the meme/scene from The Office, the “It’s happening!” one with Michael Scott freaking out over the fact after 40 years of not having an interest in sewing I suddenly find myself wanting to try it. She’s trying to be patient and give me space but I know she’s dying for me to actually start. However a few days ago I was looking and organizing some fabric squares I got in color schemes for a possible project and she started suggesting certain ones. Then that same day while out she kept pointing out methods/ways I could do said project. BTW it’s placemats. Easy measy and a simple starting project (I hope) but she’s already talking about stitching patterns and designs that I don’t feel like I’d be ready for.

Oh and she is very critical and a bit judgemental on projects. Few days ago I painted some wooded circles for earrings half black and half yellow because they are going to have bumblebee charms attached and her first comment was they weren’t even in the color spilt and/or the line was crocked. I told her I knew and it was ok because it wasn’t suppose to be “perfect” and it gives it a true handmade feel. Though I won’t lie it sorted defeated me because it made me think maybe it is dumb...

I deleted the post because I realized I missed some facts (was misinformed) and editing it would have been too complicated plus the few comments were like “god you’re crazy!” but I stand by my opinion that Jeremy Renner would be a good DWTS celebrity. People say he’s too big for the show and yes I agree if his accident hadn’t happened. Not saying the accident made him less famous, perhaps more; now he has the sympathy/hero story going for him. I don’t think he’d win and if on his partner would have be very patient with his injuries/recovery but let’s be honest there have been other celebrities over the years with physical limitations, so I didn’t fully understand the comments acting as if it’s never happened before. Plus it would be good therapy for him physically and mentally.

Well him or Damar Hamlin. I’m calling it right now. Season 32 is going to have one or the other. And if going by how Damar looked at the Super Bowl I think Jeremy has a better chance.

I did an electronic notary session today. It was weird LOL. Need to sell my car for a few reasons; mainly we already have a replacement car (my parents gave/sold us theirs) but selling it has been hard because never had a copy of the title. We were making payments and the lender had the title and after paid off never received it and no one knew or would give a straight answer on how to get it. So finally figured out to get a duplicate title and paid a service online to handle everything. After everything is said and done like around $160. The sad thing is technically could have done all myself for far less (maybe free?) but this way I know everything will be handled right. Hubby as used them for something before and it was smooth.

Fingers crossed the title will be here before insurance is due because the payment for both cars will be over $800. I can’t afford that. The second (or soon as possible) we get that duplicate title heading to CarMax and it’ll be goodbye Lyra. We are not excepting much, there are damages and the drivers side doesn’t open from the outside nor the trunk but at this point we just want it gone. And the garage only fits one car, meaning both mine are in the driveway/street and the one selling has been broken/attempted into twice. That’s why the doors won’t open. It needs to be gone.

Honestly though by law I am suppose to have insurance I might cancel it before payment since I know it will be sold in hopefully in under two weeks. Still makes me nervous.

Sitting here in the living room watching the Golden Knight game. I really do like hockey but I only really watch during playoffs. Though to be fair this isn’t actually a playoff game. Those start on Monday. Just too many games to make watching regular season too much for me ... just don’t have the patience.

Parents are away for the weekend. Lake Tahoe, my dad got a discounted stay (or something) but has to attend a timeshare bs thing. Here’s hoping they don’t sucker him in. A few months ago he nearly fell for one of those publisher clearing house scams by almost sending the person on the phone a gift/money card. Luckily my mom figured it out and stopped him, though even that took a minute, as in it was like at the second store looking for the requested gift card she started questioning it.

Hubby is on the phone. And I think I’m done typing.

Wait...I just asked Chat GPT what I should add this post and instead it gave me this ...

It sounds like you are struggling with self-doubt and lack of confidence in your crafting projects. It's important to remember that everyone starts somewhere, and it's okay if things don't turn out perfectly at first. It's all about learning and improving over time. Try to focus on the process of creating, rather than the end result, and don't let other people's opinions affect your own enjoyment of the craft.

As for selling your car, it's understandable to be nervous about canceling your insurance before the sale is complete. You could try contacting your insurance company to see if they have any suggestions for how to handle the situation. It's always better to be safe than sorry when it comes to insurance.

Lastly, it's good to hear that you're taking some time for yourself while your parents are away. Maybe you could use this time to work on a crafting project without any external pressure or judgement. Remember to be kind to yourself and give yourself permission to make mistakes and learn from them.

Aww thanks! I guess it had no feelings on the Jeremy Renner thing LOL.

#my thoughts #sorry I don't feel like editing

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forestgreenlesbian · 4 years

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if you’ll allow me to overshare on this tuesday morning i’ve realised i really maybe won’t ever be completely happy because in truth i just don’t want a job and i don’t want to work and even the field that i’m going into i love it but i don’t want to have to turn it into something that’s just money making and i wish i could do it for free and still afford to live. however. i’ve also realised that even if i could live without working i still wouldn’t b happy because this past year ever since i quit my old job and moved back in with my parents i havent been working i haven’t been paying rent i’ve just been sewing and reading and going to therapy and living with their support, arguably living the Dream but i haven’t been happy because i have this insane guilt complex that means i can’t enjoy myself because i feel like i should be doing something and that i’m a burden and maybe it’s that i’m depressed or maybe it’s that this world we have to live in means i have to suck it up and work if i want to keep on living idk. anyway. it jsut feels very pointless and weird and i can distract myself and find ways to experience happiness but it doesn’t change the core feeling

#i'm going back to bed anyway

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halfhumanhalfasleep · 4 years

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8.15.

Eight dollars and fifteen cents. No, wait, 8:15. I’ve been cashiering for so long I read the time in dollar amounts. It doesn’t matter anyway. I mark the time in Guilt. When I wake up in the morning the first thing I do is look at the clock. Nine times out of ten the time is later than I would have liked to wake up. Guilt o’clock. I believe waking up early is a sign of a Good Person. I do not wake up early. There are reasons; my schedule just doesn’t work out that way. Ben works the late shift so we hang out from midmorning to afternoon when he has to leave, and I do my work or schoolwork after that. But still I feel guilty. The schedule goes a bit like this: wake up in the morning, hate myself for not waking up sooner. The girls want to go outside, hate myself for not feeling like taking them outside. Eventually get up and take them out, see the mess and the sink full of dishes, hate myself for not doing them. Try to get some work done, feel guilty because the girls want to go outside again. Take the girls out, feel guilty for not doing any work. Look for some distraction from the constant self-hatred and feel guilty for that too. Hanging out with ben helps me not feel so guilty (sometimes), but the rest of my life is dominated by it. I buy things to make myself feel like I’ve accomplished something, to have something in my hand I can touch that makes me feel happy, however fleetingly. I bargain and haggle with myself over food: whether I should even bother eating, whether eating is worth adding to the pile of dishes I haven’t done. I tell myself I shouldn’t eat anything at all if I’m not going to eat anything healthy, and then I say that I can’t do that either because that would require cooking which would use more dishes and besides, someone has to eat the leftover Krystal’s anyway, cooking something nice would only add to the dishes and there’d be leftovers because it’s just me for dinner, always, and the fridge is already full as it is. Better to just not eat much anyway. (And then I inevitably get hungry, very hungry and eat Everything).

It all just feels so pointless, and it sucks, because I knew it was getting bad again so I set up appointments for therapy to get myself some help, (and also because a lot of these are fairly New Problems I have not dealt with before so I have no idea how to cope) but then theres a fucking pandemic! and everything is cancelled of course so I have to try and figure something else out on top of everything else which feels so exhausting because I’ve got school transitioning to online, I’m trying to make masks to help out (and doing terribly, I feel like I’ve barely made a dent in the need there is, and it feels so daunting) I’m still working so there’s the stress of working in a pandemic and customers being extra stressed and rude and mean and both my mom and my sisters are immunocompromised but I can’t afford to think about that and I have to clean and work and sew and I’m so tired and I’m never doing enough. It’s never ever enough.

#depression #anxiety #mental health #retail therapy #suicidal thoughts #self-hatred #tw eating disorder #unhealthy relationship with food #self worth #suicide mention #sortof but better safe than sorry #eating disorder #pandemic #coronavirus #covid 19

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nodaisieswithoutrainsies · 4 years

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Need Help With Mental Health and Getting out of an Abusive Situation

Okay so here’s my deal. My mom has abused me (mostly mentally, emotionally, and financially, but there’s been a decent amount of physical abuse too) since I was about 12 years old. I’m 21 now. I went away to college for a few years but due to some unforeseen circumstances I’ve had to move back home until Fall 2020. It’s just me and my mom. We don’t talk to extended family, I don’t have a father or siblings.

When I was 14 I was diagnosed with Bipolar II, Bipoar Depression, and GAD. When I was 18, ADHD was officially added in, and within the past month I’ve accepted my ASD diagnosis. I’ve been fully medicated for the past 7.5 year’s, and in outpatient therapy with the same wonderful therapist for that entire time. When I was 15 I voluntarily (it was my idea) put myself into a partial program for a month for suicidal ideation and depression and self harm. When I was 16 almost 17 I voluntarily (again, my idea) took myself to the ER to go into inpatient therapy in psychology ward at New York Presbyterian, but was only there for a week because the counsellors there all came to the agreement that I was in better shape than I knew and released me, but with a binder of coping mechanisms and into the care of that same therapist I still have. At this point in my life, I’m very self aware, I can take care of myself and my mental healthy by myself, and I’m extremely proud of the progress I’ve made to better myself as a person and take care of my mental health. My friends, my therapist, my boyfriend of 5 years (best friend of 8), and my godmother all agree and praise me for my progress.

My mother, as I said, has abused me. Getting worse and worse over the years (as I contrarily got better). When she’s in a good mood, she dotes on me and does everything for me and lavishly spends money on me and pines for my attention. None of which I ask her to do because.... When she’s in a bad mood, whether or not because of me (when the only reason it’s “because of me” is when I’m not feeling great and liked to be alone) she takes it out on me. Hits me, curses at me, threatens me, berates me, tells me I’ve made no progress and I’m crazy, that she’s a perfect mother, that nothing is wrong with her, she attacks me with specific hurtful insults (“that’s why he doesn’t really love you!”), and holds all of her good mood antics over my head. She’s called the police on me >10 times since I was 14. They always take me for an evaluation, I’m always let go saying the cops are crazy. This past Friday, she threatened and tried to kill me. Then lost her mind rocking back and forth on her knees. So I called and ambulance. Ended up in her freaking out and calling the cops on ME for originally trying to de-escalate what did in fact turn out to be a hostile situation. I got released, but not without all the nurses and paramedics tending to me, as well as the crisis counsellor setting me free, all giving me some support saying they believed me, giving me numbers of support places in the area to help adult abuse victims.

My therapist has a lot of interaction with my mom, as she gives out her cell phone, comes to my graduation parties, has had sessions with me and my mom, and has had us to her house before. Plus my mother frequently texts her and emails her insanities and false stories, accusations, and ramblings about me. So at this point, my therapist has diagnosed my mother with Narcossistic Personality Disorder, as well as Borderline Peraonality Disorder. My mom has briefly (~6 weeks) gone to another therapist, but that was years ago. She constantly denies she has mental health issues besides her depression (which she deals with by drinking excessively, self harming, and attacking me). She denies that therapy works (yet says it does for me). She’s manipulative of the people around her- spewing lies to police officers even when I’m calm, open about my bipolar/therapy/medication, and looking for help, spewing lies to her friends who never interaction with me so they don’t know anything except that apparently I’m the problem, and spewing lies to her sister, my aunt, the only family we talk to still, and her best friend/former girlfriend/my other parent of over 35 years. No one believes me except my therapist and friends and boyfriend. No cops, not people who “love me”, and obviously not her. She frequently tries to get me arrested or admitted to a hospital involuntarily. She has ~$16k of my money in her account that she keeps procrastinating giving me.

I recently opened my own bank accounts not attached to hers. I work, I go to school. I’m an aspiring Marine Geologist and I’d like to get my Masters and PhD. When I hopefully graduate May 2021, I will move to California to go to graduate school and make my own life. Away from her, never to speak to her again.

I don’t have much money, even once she does actually give me the money from her account. To finish my BS I need a total of ~$23k. My saved money was for school, not living expenses or car insurance or groceries etc. Hence why I moved home while I completed some prerequisites around where I live. I will move out if I absolutely have to, by my 4 cats are here, two of which are senile and sick. I don’t love my mom. I can’t at this point. I have PTSD or the similar diagnosis from the trauma and abuse. I keep denying family therapy because I’m not sure it’ll work if she doesn’t accent any responsibility or open her mind to realise IM not the problem. I have a car, which is not under my name and while I could switch it I can’t afford car insurance. I have my own furniture and stuff to furnish a place that I will be allowed to take with me when I leave.

At this point, family therapy is necessary to entertain her until I leave. I’m looking for advice, resources, anything any of you can give me to help me handle this and make my life good and achieve my ambitions. I’m a generally pretty happy person; I like to read, write poetry/prose/short stories/songs, go hiking and enjoy nature, hang with my friends, make new ones, love animals, volunteer at the humane society, act, sing, improv, be in theatre, sew, and give advice and love to my friends who need it. I’m an advocate for sexual assault victims (twice in my life), mental health, animals, climate change, women, LGBTQ+ community (bisexual and genderqueer!), and eventually for abuse victims once I get out of here. (And by this I mean I actively take strides to advocate for these causes, joining clubs and marches etc, not just saying that because I experience some of them). I’m not a bad person, I don’t think. I try my hardest to always improve, and I wish I was dealt a better hand (don’t we all?). I’m not asking for money, I could never. I’m asking for advice and resources and a community. Anything yall got for me I’d appreciate more than anything. Thank you for listening/reading, I know it was a lot. If you got this far or offer help, I’ll hit you up with a follow even though that won’t be enough to repay your kindness. Ugh sorry that sounded textbook. Idk. But thank you so much. I really appreciate your time and advice.

-Jessica (I’m from downstate NY by the way)

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stimtoybox · 5 years

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[image description: a photo on a dappled white and blue night sky quilt cover, showing an assortment of stim toys. From top to bottom, left to right, toys include: a purple unicorn Squeezamal, a plastic tin of Super Brain Putty, a cake scroll squishy, a DIY sponge doughnut squishy, a Mickey mini Tsum Tsum plush, a black infinity cube, a purple metal Slinky, a knobbled pink sensory shape in a pyramid, a marble maze in a sheep print, an orange-red prickled ball, a purple-spotted bean bag, a pink/white/yellow/purple knock-off Tangle Relax Therapy, four hedge balls, and a pink/blue/green Twiddle.]

Today I had to throw out one of my stim toys--a powder-filled balloon-type squishy/stress ball--because the rubber had split from age.

So I thought I’d put together a list post of the stim toys that I find durable--ones that don’t break on me (like Tangles and squishies), don’t deteriorate or become sticky as the plastic degrades (like vinyl cooler packs, silicone squishies, stretchables) or need to be thrown out after a certain amount of time through aging (like slime). If you can’t afford to keep replacing stim toys, these are the ones I’d be looking for in building a stim kit. It’s worth noting that I’m not the most forceful or aggressive stimmer due to my chronic hand pain: some of these things may not be so durable in another stimmer’s hands.

I’ll also give an honourable mention to mermaid sequins (not pictured) although I tend to find sequins on my floor (they do come off) and the pencil cases (especially the K-Mart ones) have issues of zippers stiffening over time. In the main, though, they’re reasonably durable.

For short discussions on why I like the aforementioned toys, please hit “keep reading”:

Squishables

I’m a fan of the many varieties of squishy plushies (the major brand name is Squeezamals, but there’s many knock-offs and imitations) now available. They’re a plush (usually animal) or faux fur coating over a memory foam sphere, and while they’re a little more dense than most squishies, they don’t crack, split, tear or yellow like a commercial foam squishy.

They do cost more than a commercial squishy, but they last a lot longer, and the plush can be wiped over with a damp cloth or baby wipe.

DIY squishes, the kind made from a memory foam or sponge base and covered with layers of fabric paint, are much more durable than commercial foam squishies. They’re more expensive to make, but my doughnut has lasted for almost a year with no cracking or splitting; none of my other active-use squishies has lasted anywhere close to as long.

The one commercial squishy that seems to be stacking up for durability is the Squeeze Eez scroll squishy. The paint is peeling off mine, but the squishy underneath isn’t cracking or splitting, and I carry mine in my backpack where it’s getting smushed between my wallet, water bottle and keys.

Putty

I’ve stopped using slime altogether, although I have kept a few of my favourites. It’s wet, it’s oozy, you have to wash your hands before using it, it melts with time or heat, and it isn’t that portable. Putty doesn’t have the same poking sound, but it’s clean, portable, has no residue (but is slightly drying--use hand lotion after) and while it does soften more in warmer temperatures, it doesn’t melt, mould or discolour. I can leave a tin for six months and find it in much the same state it was when last I used it.

Most brands are fairly decent. Thinking Putty is too expensive here in Australia; my favourite local brand is Ultra Putty. K-Mart’s Super Brain Putty is a little more brittle (depending on colour/formulation) but its easy to find (and the Super Cosmic Sparkle variant has the prettiness and add-ins of many fancy slimes).

All the putties I’ve liked are as perfect now as they were two years ago, whereas I’ve made and thrown out a lot of slime. The putty just seems so much more cost-effective to me.

(I also like putty over playdough; it doesn’t dry out or collect dirt and dust anywhere near as badly.)

Plush and Soft Toys

If you like fabric textures, these are always going to be among the more durable stim toys. They’re soft, they can be washed when needed and well-made plushies/soft toys are difficult to damage under most stimming conditions.

I like Miniso plush for softness and size (some are as big as pillows) and mini plush like the Disney Tsum Tsums for portability and the texture of the embroidered details and different fabrics.

Slinky

The brand name Slinky is pretty difficult to damage (unless you’re intentionally seeking to do so). I’ve got a few paint chips on mine, but that’s it. It still works as a Slinky despite these cosmetic flaws, and the thicker metal comprising the loops means it’s harder (unlike cheap knock-offs) to get the Slinky tangled in on itself or kinked in the wrong way. It’s not the most subtle or portable of toys, but the sound it makes is amazing.

I’ve used real and fake Slinkies, and if you can get the real one, I do recommend it. It’s easier to use, less prone to tangling, and sturdier; the difference in sound and hand-feel is worth the higher price.

Marble Maze and Bean Bags

Most fabric stim toys, if they’re well-sewn, are going to hold up: the worst that will happen is that a stain doesn’t completely wash out.

I will observe here that I sew my own and I double-seam everything so the fabric or thread will start to rot before it unravels or frays. The durability here may depend on the ability and time of the maker, but if you’re making your own, you have control over the sturdiness.

It’s worth noting that if you fill your bean bag with anything other than plastic pellets or aquarium gravel, you shouldn’t wash it. Unstitch a seam, remove the filling (dried beans, rice, soup mix) and wash the outer before refilling and sewing the seam back up. You can wipe over the outside fabric of bags with mould-prone fillings with a dryish-damp cloth (like a baby wipe) for minor cleaning, if you’re careful not to let the filling get wet.

Infinity Cube

I admit that this isn’t my favourite stim toy, since there isn’t a lot of variation in how I use it. Short of dropping something heavy on it, I don’t think I can break it. It hasn’t stiffened, it hasn’t cracked or broken, and can be wiped over with a baby wipe should it get dusty or dirty.

I wouldn’t toss it loose in a bag for fear of cracking a hinge, but under normal stim usage, the worst I’ve done to it is scratch it.

Tangle Relax Therapy

I love Tangles, but they’re not the most durable stim toy. They’re just not. This said, I haven’t yet managed to break my (knock off) Relax Therapy. For that reason, I’ll cautiously suggest that it may be more durable than other Tangles, perhaps in part because it isn’t designed to come apart as easily as a Tangle Jr.

Twiddle

I don’t like these as much as a Tangle, but they’re designed to break apart and clip back together more readily than a Tangle. There’s no stress on the connector pieces when I do so, in large part because they fasten together by means of a tiny ball slotting into an equally-tiny depression on the opposite piece (making it far more durable than the Tangle peg-and-slot connection). Even when I’m forceful, I see no white stress marks on the pieces.

The real issue, I’ve found, is the risk of losing a piece when the Twiddle is pulled apart.

Prickle Balls and Hedge Balls

Short of taking a pair of scissors to these (or losing the mini hedge balls under the bed) I’m not sure how I’d break these. Likely by putting them under something heavy; running over them with a 4WD might do it! The hedge balls with the stretchable fronds are more prone to breaking and tearing, but the others are just textured balls for rolling, pressing down on and massaging. I’ve had a prickle ball shoved in a bag for a couple of years and other than the ball turning black from the outer bag leeching dye, nothing’s happened to it.

#stim toy #stim toys #comparative review #photo #text #link #Australia #category: stim toy collections #category: toys by theme #review #stimtoybox #long post #very long post #mod chatter

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jessiedressesup · 5 years

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No one I talk to has anything to say so im just gonna vent here for awhile. I've gained more weight despite all attempts otherwise and I don't know what to do. Nothing is working. My fibro pain is getting worse, my memory is deteriorating faster than ever, my stress is at an all time high. I can't work because I'm in pain but I can't get approved for disability bc fuck me I guess. I might be able to do physical therapy again, which helps a little bit but not enough. Losing weight is supposed to help with pain but no matter what I do I can't lose any, or if I do it just comes back plus extra. I've even been looking into weight loss surgery, but I don't think my insurance will approve me and I don't even have enough money to afford a bus pass, let alone to pay for surgery out of pocket. I don't know what to do. Sewing is painful, I can't hold a pencil for long without my hand cramping up. I can't even donate plasma as a last resort anymore. I feel like there's hardly anything of me left. I keep having violent dreams. I might have PTSD? My pain controls everything I do and there's no way out. There's never a way out. Everything feels so hopeless. Pointless. I'm trying my best but it's not enough. I'm never enough.

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littlefeatherr · 5 years

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Prompt fill for @maroucia : Mail-order bride modern AU. In a modern Westeros, the North is much poorer than the South and Sansa is lured by all the riches and temptations of the south and so, she decides to offer herself as a mail-order bride. Of course, she catches Sandor’s eyes who himself has turned to the idea because he hates dating seeing that his face is burned and all, but he still would like to find a wife. Read more below or on AO3 here.

Chapter 1

Settling down with a mug of tea, Sansa needed to take a break from job hunting. Opening her tablet, she decided to indulge her favorite escape: perusing vacation blogs, pretending she was planning a visit to the southern countries of Westeros.

While the south was full of cities bustling with diversity, plenty of jobs to be had for the asking, and mild weather, the north never recovered from the war. And the ten year winter season was a burden itself.

The poor economy denied basic resources for northerners, especially since King Joffrey placed tariffs on all the products exported from there as part of a trade war. In the past year, many industries closed. And families that Sansa had known all her life were moving away.

Since her father passed away five years back, there had been huge financial burdens on the family, and Sansa couldn’t bring herself to leave them. So she settled on a local university to continue her dream of becoming a custom dressmaker.

Bran’s snowboard accident happened not long after; in-home physical therapy and medical bills further strained the family funds. Sansa had to quit school and work two jobs. Since their mother spent her time working and caring for Bran, Arya and Rickon grew wilder by the day. Winter had come with a vengeance for the Starks.

Sleet rattled against the windows, shaking her of her recollections. Gods, what she wouldn’t do to be on a southron beach right now. She was determined to reach her dreams, one way or another. She just needed a plan.

Sansa tapped her finger on the bookmark of her favorite blog. Escape to the warm, sun-kissed beaches of King’s Landing! Sansa wished for nothing more. Life seemed so carefree for the people who lived there. The sight of the wealthy, young, tanned and fit men and women frolicking in the waves sent a pang of envy through her.

Sansa couldn’t remember the last time she had a vacation, could barely remember a time when she felt the effortless contentment in the people smiling back at her through the screen of her tablet.

Eagerly she moved onto the second one. The beautiful shores of Port Lannisport, one of the largest, richest cities of Westeros. Come to visit and see it’s prosperity for yourself!

More beautiful, tanned people, Sansa complained inwardly. This time they were wearing swimsuits that barely covered their most intimate places, enjoying champagne under burgundy and gold cabanas of the exclusive Casterly Rock Club.

Yes, Casterly Rock Club was very elegant, but she would feel too out of place there if they even allowed shabby northerners into the place. Every one of the guests was surgically enhanced and dripping in gold and diamond jewelry.

Swallowing hard, her hand instinctively went to the silver and sapphire direwolf charm at her neck, the last nameday gift she had received from her late father. It was a reminder of better times, and the ones she prayed to the gods were ahead for her. She fingered it while whispering a quick prayer to her father before tapping on the next bookmark.

Shop the opulent Lannisport Outlet Mall, your one-stop destination to luxury! Oh, she would much rather visit there! Ever since she was a little girl, Sansa loved embroidery, sewing, and designer clothing.

The scenes showed happy families laughing while eating southern delicacies, bringing up a bitter lump in her throat. Young people in the latest summer fashions carried designer Dornish leather handbags as they shopped and flirted under a shaded canopy.

Wrinkling her nose, Sansa glanced down at her sweats and ratty sweater. When was the last time she went shopping? Aside from The Wall Mart, there weren’t many places to shop near Winterfell - and none of them fashionable. She would definitely need to do some serious online retail therapy if she ever visited Port Lannisport.

Faintly Sansa could hear her mother speaking to someone. On to the next region, she said to herself as she tucked her feet under her legs.

Visit the rugged hills of the Westerlands, the richest lands in Westeros. A landscape dotted with golden, rolling plains and caves from which gold and silver mines pour forth deep veins in astonishing quantities. Abundant gemstones and precious metals mean lower prices on all your jewelry needs!

With widened eyes, Sansa clicked on the pictures of black fertile fields, apple orchards, Pinot grape vineyards, and Black Mission fig tree groves. Further inland lay dense maple forests that opened up to crystal blue lakes and river rapids, reportedly renowned worldwide for whitewater rafting.

Gemstones of all kinds, gold and silver jewelry, beautiful log homes in the verdant foothills all caught her attention. Oh, she would definitely visit the Westerlands first! The featured delicacies and riches were sensational!

But how could she go? The family barely had enough money to get by; not many opportunities presented themselves as of late. Her gaze fell on a bookmark icon for a mail-order bride broker she had set up months ago. Missandei’s Marriage Brokerage Suite. Let us help you find your perfect match with a beautiful, northern bride of your choosing.

That’s one way to get south. And if I’m chosen, I could put my husband’s fee in a trust for Bran. From what Sansa had seen on the website, Lannisport and King’s Landing was teeming with beautiful women, but the farming areas surrounding them were not heavily populated. The men there depended on agriculture and vacationers for their incomes – jobs that left little time for meeting potential partners.

Her mother’s voice pulled her out of her fantasies - and back to the dreary reality of life. Stern Aunt Lysa was impatiently tapping her foot; Sansa had been so caught up in her musings that she didn’t realize she’d entered the room.

“Sansa, are you daydreaming again? Put down the tablet for a moment, please.”

Her mother had a way of saying “please” that sounded anything but polite, especially when she was about to lecture to one of her children.

No wonder Arya and Bran are nowhere to be found. Suppressing a sigh, Sansa braced herself and turned to face them.

“I cannot understand for the life of me why you haven’t yet settled down with someone and moved out,” Catelyn began. “I was married for four years at your age.”

“Mother-“

“It’s all I can do to keep Winterfell let out, and food on the table for Arya and Rickon, and Bran with all the medical bills, I can’t afford to feed you too.“

“Mother, I know,” Sansa struggled to remain respectful. Ever since she turned eighteen, this had become a well-worn topic between them, and at twenty, Sansa had already said all she had to say on the subject.

Enter Aunt Lysa.

“That is why I started college,” Sansa pulled her mother close, “so I could make real money, not just the little I bring doing housekeeping and selling on Etsy.”

“And what good did it do you? You knew from the start that we could ill afford it, but you were determined to waste what little money your father left you on it.“ Aunt Lysa interjected. "And here you are, squandering your days on that damned tablet!”

Her words stung. “I wanted to help the family by having an actual career. I thought maybe I could open a clothing store and help the local economy, but there aren’t any opportunities here.” Sansa stepped away and wrung her hands.

Exasperated, Aunt Lysa shook her head. “Always with the dreams. Well, it’s time you grew up. Take your educated self south, Miss.”

“I would love to go, but since I, as you say, wasted my money on education, I don’t have a way.”

Aunt Lysa and her mother exchanged a look. "Uncle Petyr lives in King’s Landing in the famed Red Keep and he’s offered to take you in. You could work with his showgirls’ costumes-“

Tears stung Sansa’s eyes, for this, too, was a familiar and unpleasant topic between the three of them.

“No, absolutely not! He’s not my uncle, so I wish you both would stop with that! And they aren’t showgirls, Aunt Lysa, they’re sex workers!”

"Ungrateful child!” Aunt Lysa sputtered. “This family has no better friend than Petyr, especially since your father and Jon both-”

Sansa rolled her eyes.

“Sansa that is just a terrible rumor started by jealous people trying to discredit him.” Catelyn insisted.

“So that’s the official party line he has you two repeating.“

Catelyn gaped at her, but Sansa went on, “He’s always staring at me in the grossest way. Sending me friend requests on my social media. He’s a stalker.“

“Sansa, that’s your college third wave feminism talking! Petyr is old-fashioned, and he’s not about to hide that he’s interested in you. What’s wrong with that?” Aunt Lysa fumed.

“What’s wrong is that I’ve made it clear that I don’t want his attention - and yet he refuses to take no for an answer!” Sansa set her jaw. “If you like him so much, why don’t you go live with him and leave me alone?”

Catelyn pinched Sansa’s arm. “By the gods, Sansa, you can be just as willful as Arya at times!”

She jerked away from her.

“You don’t have many options. So, it’s either go with your Uncle Petyr, young lady, or get in touch with a marriage brokerage.”

“A marriage brokerage? To offer myself as a mail order wife?” Sansa’s nervously considered the possibility. It was an honorable way to find a husband and definitely a good opportunity…

“Petyr offered to do it himself, but I don’t like your attitude, so you just do it on your own!” Aunt Lysa hissed. "Just go on and become a mail order bride on one of those bargain sites and see what kind of monster you end up with!”

“Whoa, wait just a minute - Petyr offered to buy me outright, didn’t he?!” Sansa shouted. “And not just for my sewing skills!”

Catelyn side eyed her. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Mother-”

“I married your father as a mail-order bride.” Her mother arched her brow.

Great, another guilt trip.

“And I married your Uncle Jon as one, the Seven rest him.” Aunt Lysa added, even though Sansa had turned her back to her. “You have a duty to your family. It’s time you made good on it.”

“We need the money, Sansa, and there aren’t many prospects up here-“ her mother gestured to the shabby conditions around them, “and Bran and Arya and Rickon need me. What would you have me do?”

“Stop being so selfish, Sansa!” Aunt Lysa shouted.

“Good gods, Aunt Lysa, even the marriage agencies give women the right to choose their husbands!”

Squeezing her eyes shut, Sansa fought to calm her temper and think rationally. Perhaps if I joined up with one of the free sites, I will find a nice man, settle in with him and who knows? Love might follow. It worked out pretty well for my mother. Less so for my aunt.

Biting her lip, Sansa thought it over. Could she really muster up the courage to reach out to a strange man? To be his wife, and share his bed?

Sansa had already looked at a few sites, and they didn’t seem so bad; each one had ways and means to ensure successful matches. The only caveat was the marriage had to be consummated the day of the wedding, and if they didn’t get along by the end of the trial period, Sansa would need to return the money - and to the north.

Excitement and a bit of fear took hold of her, while Sansa’s silence increased her mother’s unease.

“Stop that lip nibbling, Sansa, it’s unladylike and a disgusting habit you picked up from Arya. So what will it be: go stay and work with Uncle Petyr, or become a mail order bride?”

Sansa had so little ownership of her own life since her father died. Yet today she would regain control, snatch it out of thin air, all for herself.

“Fine, Mother, I’m going to do it my way. I’ll meet with a marriage brokerage as soon as possible.”

Without a word, she picked up her tablet and left the room, leaving her mother crying over her ungrateful daughter and her aunt harping on her duty to the family.

#sansan #sansa x sandor #sansa stark #sandor clegane #sansan fanfiction #loong post

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healingdryad · 5 years

Text

Spread Like Fire (But This Is Water)

Hello, my name is Jessica Romero and I am a Stanford student in danger of losing everything I have studied and worked hard for. I have held jobs at Stanford's Design for Extreme Affordability as well as been praised by professors visiting the Cardinal Free Clincs at Stanford, where they have asked for my name. I say this not to brag, but to convince you that I need help, am worthy of help, and am a bright mind who can and would be a life-saving surgeon capable of researching and connecting with the brightest minds. I am also a first generation low income minority student from uneducated parents, who try the best with what they have but who are struggling.

Here is a snippet of the beginning:

This book (an autobiography being written *while* history is actually being made) is both as an informal way of therapy while my voice is healing (how that blew out is an experience on its own), and as a way to generate income because my livelihood is in danger. This book has had several false starts (a snippet included below shows how casually it first was going to be written (this is shamelessly added for length, though it does help show progress and growth). This book is being written as a block and without an editor. My starting date and time is Friday, November 16th, 2018. As these are life events, they are researched as closely as time allows. Which means while exact dates will be available in future versions, current time pressures allow only for approximations. This includes meeting of spies (kept as political prisoners) and how doing my homework throughout my life really was the only thing between life and death for me. It demonstrates the importance of friendship, of teachers, of perseverance, and of keeping a sense of humor.

It involves gangs, mafias, the literal FBI/NSA (can't tell you their secrets though - sorry about that), and how the color green became important politically as well as rebelliously - more than environmental, more than love (I believe those who know me suspect why it is important personally - I ask that you do not ask and do not answer if asked).

My life story includes how a mental illness diagnosis can be a very, very large crutch - much greater than the diagnosis at times, as there is prejudice in the medical field (but the prejudice is given the justification of probability). The diagnosis has hindered communication with my family, who does not believe it when I explained that yes, there are such things as mafias and gangs, and yes, I did "get involved" simply by not being "a piece of shit" towards them.

In the end, I hope you will learn a lot about how mafias and gangs are really just black market versions of political and legal systems, and are the result of the political and social climate failing people. Of people who have been through hardships and not been supported the way they needed it finding themselves a home somewhere where their skills are needed and their illnesses not prejudiced against. At times this is for good, at times this is for evil. My story sheds light on how kindness can turn almost the most hardened of criminals (as long as they retain their ability to reason) into a force for good.

My story sheds insight into human rights issues which are happening even here in the US (many of which we are not aware of), including the locking up of political prisoners (that is how I met several spies, who will deny being spies, and for which I have no proof of being spies). Why am I writing this? Because those spies are now working towards creating a more peaceful US. Because those gang members are working towards making a more peaceful US. Because I showed them that the seeds for change are here. That it is now-or-never: the world will either heal or we will all fall together. If war breaks out it is quite possible that we will not recover from it. We must repair and heal, but do so slowly, sustainably.

I stayed awake throughout a cold night in gang-infested territory while proving to my family that I could survive. I was close to death several times (all from dehydration and lack of nutrition) but survived thanks to the grace of God, Gods, god, gods and people-made miracles.

While in the middle of this I am in recovery healthwise. I have been handling so much paper and medication (some medication is a chemical peelant) that I am at risk of losing my fingerprints and sensitivity in my finger tips. I need those in order to become a surgeon (my goal). I ask that you share this widely, publically, and with an eye on the currently political climate.

I have helped the homeless enough times that word has spread about a mysterious "Tree of Life" figure - that would be me. I have performed miracles behind the scenes - whether that is figuratively or literally is up to the readers' discretion. I have done this behind the scenes and am now a little regretful because I have no "paper trail" of it - my time is focused on the goal and not on the time. I ask that you forgive me for that.

My family is going through several hardships but is keeping up appearances for it. I cannot use my voice and need a visit with an ENT. I need a miracle, but I cannot sustain myself on prayers. Humans of Tumblr Humans of Stanford Humans of New York.

I ask for donations now so that I can work in the future. In the meantime I will actually be working on writing, so that those making political decisions can be informed. So that I do not lose sensibility in my fingers (which would devastate a career in surgery, where my sewing and crocheting skills would best be put to use. Whatever I receive will help me recover, which is best not only for myself but for the world. I am a humanitarian at heart, and though idealistic I am realistic when seeing needs that people have.

We are currently seeing devastation across the board. I do not want to be added to that.

My VenMo (connected to my bank account) is Jessica-Romero-027 My paypal is connected to my email address from childhood, jessybestpetowner. Please share and forward widely (including on other platforms).

I can provide a picture ID of my passport. The erratic nature of my posts is not due to a mental breakdown but due to the desparation that gripped me at the realization that everything we hold dear as a planet could be lost. I beg you for your help. I do not "look homeless" but am very much in danger of it. My family has taken care of ruining my clothes (which sounds petty but is actually a major reason I am unable to get a professional job). I am currently being “held hostage” through the fact that I cannot work without the things that I buy (or my books) being taken and hidden away. I need to build up a fund without their knowledge, and this computer is how I am doing so.

I will remain here until school starts, but my financial aid is unable to support me because there is no proof that my parents are abusive (and they are changing their ways because they realized they have to). They are better able to communicate with the outside world because they have financial as well as housing power over me. I am not moving out both because I cannot afford it, because all my textbooks are here, and because it is the most practical solution to do so. I have no privacy here (there is no lock on my door). I am on my final year at Stanford University and need to raise at least 64,000 to ensure my continuation (I have four quarters left, and missing any of them would disrupt my education more than I am able to afford).

I am in danger of losing my mucous membranes, permanently.

#medblr #healingdryad

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rescueonefinancialnet · 3 years

Text

My mom abused and killed my cat

My mom has Munchausen by proxy. I have been 0 contact with her for over 3 years now. I joined this group because there isn't a large supportive community for Munchausen

by proxy survivors on reddit, and this is the next best thing I can find.

My mom abused my pet cat. She told me she couldn't afford to take him to the vet. That because she was a nurse she would preform the surgery on him at home. I would wear

thick leather gardening gloves and hold the cats back legs, and dad would hold his front legs and head. Mom would shave his abdomen where the abscess was, slice him open

with a scalpel, squeeze out all the puss, and then take a syringe without a needle filled with salt water and flush out the abscess. Then she would stitch him up with sewing

thread and let him be. It would refill and we would redo the surgery regularly. Until he died from his heart giving out. He had heart worms, but my mom refused to take him

to the vet ever to treat him, and refused to give him deworming meds, or flea meds, or anything ever. I would beg her and cry and she would say we can't afford it. When we first got him I begged

her to keep him indoor only so he wouldn't be exposed to illnesse etc from being outdoors, but she refused, and as soon as I went to school or left the house she let him out

against my wishes. Eventually

he succumb to parasitic heartworms. It broke my heart. He suffered for many many years. My mom tried to teach me to kill animals. She taught me that animals aren't like humans

so it's ok to abuse and kill them. It took many years of therapy for me to unlearn this, before I could have a cat of my own etc. It took me many years of therapy to learn to cry

again. I was always punished for crying, because it's a sign of weakness that was never tolerated in my family.

Despite the therapy and me knowing I was a child less than 7 years old, that I couldn't have done anything, that it wasn't my fault he suffered and died, because I believed my mom. My cat's suffering and death is something

I have never really recovered from. I secretly hope that on those long weeks that the cat Herman didn't come home, he had a secret second home he stayed at, that treated him much better so he had a happier life somewhere sometimes.

My mom has Munchausen by proxy. I am a survivor of it. My mom tried to kill me many times. I have been 0 contact with her for over 3 years now. I joined this group because there isn't a large supportive community for Munchausen by proxy survivors on reddit and this is the next best thing I can find.

I have been no contact with my mom or dad or extended family for over 3 years now. They harass me and stalk me and my family regularly. I went no contact when I wanted to move forward in my relationship and get married and build a family, something I did not feel I could do safely if they were part of my life.

I am very disappointed in our legal system here in Canada. I can not get a restraining order against my mom. They do not exist in Canada. I called legal aid. I tried. I can only get a legal order called a peace bond requiring my mom act civil towards me in public places. Something she is already a master of. I am constantly stalked and harassed by her at work, and home, confronting her, requesting she leave then calling the police to remove her from my house to try and limit exposure to our 6 month old. As long as she has no contact with our kids she can not take us to court for grandparents visitation rights in the future.

My husband never believed my mom was crazy until he showed up at his work greasy, dirty, ranting at him with binders of paperwork off the net about diseases and illnesses I have and am hiding from him. She never asks how I am. My dad always goes along with anything she says or does because he has no backbone. Now that I am gone she abuses him. Growing up I had to do whatever she said so that she wouldn't "go after him." She is a conspiracy theorist that is against all vaccines. Conveniently I got ill with something I wouldn't have gotten had I been vaccinated as a child that is incurable now. I lost contact with my extended family because they believed her that I was sick with illnesses I never had, and am a difficult ungrateful child with a terrible memory. My dad following my mom's advice tried to convince my husband on a separate occasion that I am terrible with money and will spend all of his putting him deeply into debt and despair. Which is actually what my mom did to him, which is why I am not like that. I don't want to be anything like her.

I wrote this here to vent because I have talked about it with my husband, and cried on his shoulder over it plenty of times, and he doesn't need me to do it anymore.

More debt relief tips at ROF review

#debt reliew

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inkribbon796 · 3 years

Text

The Ace of Spades

Summary: With the Dark Sides contained, Spade’s attention turns to the four Core Sides.

WARNING: this chapter has a tag for non-con kissing. It doesn’t get graphic or lead to anything worse and I love Spade but he can be a lot not good. The contents of the warning include: Spade kissing Roman when he believed Spade to be Logan; and does not go any further. If that is triggering just know that the chapter ends with Spade containing all four of the Core Sides like he did with Janus, Remus, and Orange. Just thought I’d leave this warning because it is worth being warned about.

A/N: Requested by ANON

<= Back to the Deck

Date Archived: May 6, X

Uploading information

Starting sequence

Logan had been seeing his therapist for a couple of months now, just talking about his nightmares and getting treated for his insomnia. The medication was doing wonders for him, he could sleep, and function, and think. He could plan some minor exposure therapy, carefully watched and supervised. It didn’t touch his skin, but Marvin and Ethan could practice knife throwing with Logan safely nearby without Logan feeling the need to run and hide in another room.

The logical Side finally felt like he was making progress.

Patton picked him up from the appointment and left him at the house at around eight, after making sure he was okay, going over to help Joan with something for a party they were going to before he picked them up again. Logan went back to the main bedroom as Virgil and Roman were watching something. Logan gave them a quick hello before heading upstairs. Once inside his eyes raked over the closet, checking that a piece of paper was still wedged in one of the hinges.

So he smiled and sat down at his desk.

Logan sighed, leaning back in his chair, “Your therapist is very nice, I’d forgotten about her. I do hope you haven’t been too impossible with her, she is doing her best.”

Silence.

“Logan’s” eyes were literally glowing in the low light of the room as he looked toward the closet. “Right, I shouldn’t keep speaking, we do have work to do.”

Turning in his swirling chair, Logan was facing his computer and the grey solid state drive hooked up to the computer. The drive was as long as his forearm and Logan was having some frustrating issues with formatting the tech and had to rework a couple of the programs on the computer. But it was a problem he had encountered before and knew exactly how to work around it. It took an hour to finally start downloading the right programs onto it and by then Roman and Virgil had gotten home from a patrol.

Right on time.

Perfectly on time.

Roman was inside their home first and saw Logan’s shoes in the front door’s shoe cubby. The indicator that Logan was in fact home, a constant and trusted sign.

“Look who’s home early,” Roman smiled, hands on his hips as Virgil pushed past him.

“Huh, thought he was going with Pat,” Virgil commented out loud. “Must have come over so he could pick us up.”

The creative Side squealed in excitement, fake swooning onto Virgil, “How romantic. How apropos. I shall fetch our love at once.”

“Gag me with a spoon, Princey,” Virgil smiled and rolled his eyes. He lightly pushed Roman away. “I’ll get the chili. You get the nerd.”

Roman raced up the stairs, as Virgil went into the kitchen. Hearts in his eyes, and his mind blinded to any inconsistencies like a slight chip in the plaster where metal had scratched the wall hours ago.

Without knocking, Roman barged into the bedroom and saw Logan slaving away on his computer.

“Oh, Logannnn~ my love,” Roman greeted in a sing-song voice so that Logan heard him coming and wasn’t startled by him. He walked over and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head. “You lose yourself so easily my dear. Why are you sitting in the dark?”

With a snap of his fingers, Roman’s magic turned on the desk light.

“Hey poindexter,” Roman smiled as the person at the desk craned his head up just enough to look up at Roman in the most human way possible. He saw a mess of equipment and objects shadowed in low light, the sun had started to set as “Logan” had been working.

“Salutations, Roman,” Logan greeted. “How was patrol?”

“Ughh, boring,” Roman rolled his eyes, Logan staring at his lips as he spoke, turning in his chair. “Jackie and Crank beat us to anything good. So glad we’re going to Joan’s, I’ve been so bored all day. You know Virgil was so—”

Logan’s lips met his, and Roman could practically taste the hunger on them.

It surprised Roman. Usually a Logan seated at his desk meant that the Side was so hyper fixated on work that nothing: not hunger, not tiredness, nor the other Sides could uproot him from his chair.

They pulled apart as Logan’s hand carded through Roman’s soft locks.

Roman chuckled, “Not that I’m not extremely appreciative, but don’t you normally wait until after a project to let me distract you?”

“I’m at a good stopping point, I’ve missed you so much,” Logan confessed, nuzzling along Roman’s neck.

“Miss you too when I’m gone,” Roman chuckled, hugging Logan to him.

Logan let out this weird glitchy chuckle, and in the low light of the room, Roman watched Logan’s eyes and glasses glitch as a cold chill rolled over the romantic Side. In that same moment a pair of metal cuffs made out of chittering nanites anchored Roman where the creative Side stood. “Oh Roman, as dense as always, how I love you.”

That’s when Roman finally saw the communicator on the imposter’s wrist that had a black spade insignia on it.

“You’re not Logan, uncuff me this instant you charlatan,” Roman demanded, trying to jerk himself free or imagine a weakness in the bonds, but they wouldn’t give. He was only able to kick out his feet.

Spade stood up and moved in for another kiss but Roman head butted him, and felt searing pain pierce through his head.

“Such a fighter,” Spade cooed. “You look every bit as beautiful as always and then more so.”

“Let go of me!” Roman shouted in anger as he tried to twist his way free. The Side felt the beginnings of fear bubbling up in his throat.

The imposter let out another odd, glitchy chuckle. “Don’t worry, I’ll stop.”

He reached over to the desk, and pulled out three locket charms from his pocket and set two of them: a storm cloud with a thunderbolt coming down from it, and a golden heart locket with glasses etched into it. The locket charm had a fine golden chain attached to it.

The charm still in the imposter’s hand was a red and golden shield, it had the same design as Roman’s crest that he wore on the arms of his superhero uniform.

“I can’t promise this will be painless,” Spade told Roman as he stood up, kicking the chair to the side so that he had more room. “But don’t worry, my sweet prince, it’ll be quick and it will feel like going to sleep. When you wake up it will be like nothing happened.”

He moved forward, but the creative Side fought against him, kicking up a foot. “Don’t touch me, you fiend, quit using his form. You’re a brute and a monster.”

Then Roman’s foot physically went through his attacker’s stomach, as if he wasn’t even there. And something in Roman froze over in fear.

“True,” Spade admitted, sticking the charm to Roman’s neck with the nanites. The metal charm touching the soft flesh of his neck directly. “I am not worthy of something so lovely, but I’d rather have you alive and hating me, than dead and loving me.”

Just then a knock came at the door and Spade’s hands flew over Roman’s mouth, signaling for him to stay quiet with a finger gently pressed to the imposter’s lips.

“Hey Princey, Logan, everything okay?” Virgil called out.

Roman tried fighting in earnest, trying to wrench his head free. Spade slipped and Roman immediately belted out the loudest scream his lungs could muster, “VIRGIL!”

The door was already starting to open but it flew open even faster and Roman saw the fear, and then confusion, on his face when Virgil saw who Roman’s attacker looked like.

In that moment of hesitation, Spade’s nanites surged out and cascaded towards Virgil. The anxious Side tried to dodge out of the way and used his fear abilities against the Suit but the nanites glued Virgil to the wall.

“No! No! No!” Roman panicked as Spade calmly walked over to the anxious Side. “Unhand him, let him go!”

“Don’t worry,” Spade promised in the most threatening tone either one of the Sides had heard in a while. “I’ll let both of you go very soon.”

Virgil tried to twist out of his bonds, his eyeshadow darkening with his fear and he kept trying to attack the Suit with his fear powers. “Forgive me for being so rough, my lovely nightshade but I cannot afford to take chances.”

“Let me go, let me go,” Virgil was letting out a sound that sounded like spidery chittering and feline hissing as Virgil realized his powers were hitting the Suit like feathers against a brick wall. And the scariest thing was that he was still wearing Logan’s face.

“Are you trying to scare me?” Spade chuckled, his tone glitching. “My dear belladonna, there is nothing you could do to me, nothing you could show me, that could compare to the horrors I’ve seen.”

Roman’s struggling intensified as he saw a cloud of nanites snag the thundercloud charm off the table and bring it to one of Spade’s outstretched hands.

Virgil saw the pendant and began twisting. His dark purple aura scratching at the nanite goop and tried to slash at Spade’s face but that only scared Virgil more because he got the Suit in the face only to expose metal wires and plates before the nanites almost sewed it back up as if they were regrowing flesh.

The anxious Side was so overcome with fear that he froze up and shivered. Which let Spade stick the charm to his neck with nanites like he had done with Roman.

Then Side’s eyes glowed blue and he tapped the charm on Virgil’s neck. Virgil flinched and his eyes forcibly glowed purple before he let out a bloodcurdling scream and a flash of light.

And then Virgil was gone, the storm cloud pendant letting out and angry purple glow that looked like an angry storm was festering inside of it. It began dying down before the entire storm cloud had a brilliant purple shade and the thunderbolt a bright yellow.

Roman screamed in rage as Spade plucked the charm out of the goop and walked back over to the desk. All the nanites that had been used to capture Virgil merging back into Spade’s body. “Give him back! What did you do to him?”

“He’s alive and well, merely sleeping,” Spade with an absolute gentleness clipped the locket onto the front of the solid state drive, a little hanger notched into the metal specifically designed for it. “And soon you will be too.”

“Don’t touch me! Get away from me! Give him back!” Roman tried to wrench himself free but nanites came up to cup the back of his head to keep his neck still.

“Good night my sweet prince,” Spade said, his eyes glowing blue as he tapped the locket.

Roman felt something in his soul twist, something similar to fusion but used for a different purpose, his eyes glowed red.

And then the pain started. It was blinding, white hot pain. All of Roman’s nerves felt like they were being set on fire. Then it was gone and Roman too was gone from the room, his soul folded up neatly into the shield pendant.

Logan kissed the pendant reverently as it glowed an angry red before settling into a much calmer constant red color. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Princey. When you wake up it’ll all be over.”

As Spade was clipping the shield locket with Virgil’s thundercloud there was an angry kick from the inside of the closet.

Spade took his time and as he walked towards the door, he pounded on the closet door once in response. The Suit took extreme care not to dent or break the fragile wood in case anyone checked the house when his work was done.

Logan’s phone came out of the nanites that made up Spade’s physical body. He began typing on it, turning just enough lights to make the upstairs still look lived in. Then he turned on the living room light and sat next to the window just behind the kitchen table and started reading through engineering and science journals.

He was there for twenty minutes before Patton entered the house, humming to himself, thinking about how quiet it was. He walked into the kitchen to grab the bowl of chili they were supposed to bring to the party, and flicked on the light. Which is exactly when he saw who he thought was Logan was sitting at the table.

The emotional Side jumped, grabbing at his chest, “Jeezy creezy, Logan, you scared me.”

“Pardon, I was just thinking,” Logan excused, just staring at Patton. “I didn’t realize how late it had gotten.”

“Well there’s no point in sitting in the dark anymore,” Patton smiled.

Spade smiled, “I suppose not.”

“Well why don’t you enlighten me on where Ro and Virge are, that party won’t attend itself,” Patton laughed at his own joke, and to his surprise “Logan” huffed out a little laugh. It was quick but Patton still heard it.

“I got you,” Patton gasped in excitement. He turned to yell outside the kitchen towards the stairs. “Hey guys!”

When Patton turned his back and set his hand on the wall Spade shot a wad of nanites over and stuck Patton’s arm to the wall.

Silence echoed painfully through the apartment as Patton looked back at Spade who set Logan’s phone on the table.

“You’re not Logan,” Patton realized, trying to pull his hand free. “Who are you?”

“You’re always so quick to spot me,” Spade smiled. “I don’t know whether to be amused by your awareness or angry at my own failings.”

“Where are the others?” Patton asked as the nanites wrapped around him to pin him in place. He was watching Spade pull a golden locket out of his arm and his nanites gently slid it around Patton’s neck. The emotional Side flinching before Spade pulled back.

When he tentatively opened his eyes he watched Spade take his phone and his nanite body took it inside of the imposter.

“Sleep and all will be right again when you wake, I promise you,” Spade told him with such determination in his eyes that it was terrifying to Patton.

Spade repeated what he had done to Virgil and Roman on Patton and the kitchen was silent once more.

Looking down at the locket in his hand, Spade let out a relieved sigh. He had them, he was almost ready.

Going through the house, Spade began carefully putting things away and making sure all of the plugs had been pulled out of the wall and the lights were turned off. Making sure to grab Logan’s phone checking that Virgil and Roman’s phones weren’t laying around somewhere. He was halfway up the stairs when Patton’s phone dinged.

The Suit stopped, one foot up the next stair as he pulled the phone out of his arm and looked at it.

“You guys need anything before you get over here?” Joan had texted Patton.

Spade paused to think, and sent Joan a quick text, “Logan isn’t feeling well, we’re going to stay at the house.”

Almost immediately three dots appeared, Joan was texting back. But after a second they disappeared for about a minute. Then: “K be safe.”

“Will do.” Spade texted back, and then pocketed the phone.

It didn’t ring or vibrate, but Logan’s did.

The message was from Joan: “Is Patton with you?”

“Yes,” Spade answered.

There was another pause.

“Good, he told me he was running late,” Joan told him. “Have a nice night.”

Spade sent an additional perfunctory farewell and continued up the stairs where he continued to turn off everything in the house, ending with the main bedroom, where the computer equipment still was on the desk and the solid state drive with the two charms hooked onto it. The Suit admired his handiwork for a second or two, making sure there was no leaking aura or glowing that signified the Sides were awake.

When he was sure all was as he wanted, Spade carefully hooked Patton’s locket with the charms and picked up the solid state drive, black handles springing up on either side of the drive for Spade to grab.

He cleaned up the desk so none of Spade’s personal tech was left for anyone like Bing or Joan to find and use against him. The tech and nanites reabsorbed except for the drive and charms attached.

With a smug, vindictive smile, Spade walked over to the closet and opened it to look down at the real Logan who was tied up and gagged on the closet floor. The logical Side looked up at his doppelgänger and screamed angrily at him.

Spade looked down sternly at him and held up the solid state drive and the three charms attached to it. “Alright, let’s try this again.”

End of Sequence

Conclusion: Time to regroup with Hearts and prepare for the mission proper.

#superhero au #masks and maladies #house of cards shorts #tw: noncon kissing #the Spade #♠️#Roman Sanders #Virgil Sanders #Patton Sanders #Logan Sanders #LAMP #Spade is the bad guy

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emmalwrites · 3 years

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Why I avoid National Novel Writing Month, Reason 1

National Novel Writing Month (NaN|oWriMo) is a pretty cool idea: each November, writers attempt to complete the first draft of a novel within a four-week timeframe. The apprehensive or reluctant get the kickstart they need to begin; the unproductive commit to a daily word count. Dreams of publication and success bloom anew. NaNoWriMo provides a community for isolated writers, especially now that in-person writing clubs have had to disband. I love that it gives people the motivation to start the scary, complex, frustrating business of novel writing, and I admire those who plunge into the project year after year. But I would never do NaNoWriMo myself. As described in previous posts, the journey of my current novel-in-progress (or NIP, as I prefer to call it) has taken several years. I was barely fourteen when I began, barely a person, though I'd have been deeply offended at the time if anyone had suggested this. At twenty I began draft two, but progressing at any speed was impossible because of the joint problem I'd developed. My wrists ached whenever I spent more than ten minutes typing, chopping vegetables, or many other basic task that my friends seemed to manage in seconds. For seven years every doctor I saw had a different idea about what was wrong, and no exercise or therapy worked. I got my diagnosis - De Quervain's Syndrome - in October of this year. Treatment begins soon (hurrah!) but I have no idea how long the recovery process will be. I continue to wait, and budget my "hand tasks" carefully. Sewing, knitting, art, writing - these are indulgences I can't always afford.

It's true that technology exists to help people with conditions like mine. However, only the mediocre ones are affordable, and faulty programs cause delays of their own. Take a look at this excerpt, which was written with my dictation software: "Broga is lagging behind the Tav now in terms of development. I can decide on his objective – though of course, neither can he escalation point Broga doesn't know what he wants to do. However, is the latest know what drives him." And this is how it was supposed to read: "Broga is lagging behind Tav now in terms of development. I can't decide on his objective – though of course, neither can he! Broga doesn't know what he wants to do. However, I still need to know what drives him." The NIP can only progress slowly, whether by hand or by dictation. I don't write at a profitable pace. If you're capable of launching into NaNoWriMo at 1500 words a day, great! Just remember that we don't all have that privilege.

#nanowrimo #national novel writing month #disability visibility #disabled life

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the-little-red-noodle · 6 years

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11/5/17 1:59am Gratitude

Making a quick gratitude list for the night because gratitude is the key to happiness.

I am fortunate to have made such good friends here at Oxy. I've always been about quality over quantity and I'm glad to have really clicked with some people.

I am thankful for my health and well being. Life sucks sometimes, but i am not battling cancer. I am not schizophrenic. Yes i have trauma that I'm still working through, but so are many others. I'm not alone in that. And i am fortunate to have the means to deal with my problems through talk therapy or my own version of a mental health day. People say money can't buy happiness but it can buy fuzzy Target blankets, pomegranate juice, and bbq chips.

I am grateful to be getting back into art. I used to do mostly face characters- heavy pencil line work, pen outlines, rarely colored. That turned into less detailed colored pieces and then continuing to digress away from pencil or harsh line and being mainly based in the colors of the piece. Sometimes there isnt a character at all. And while i would say that my older art is 'better', i am focusing on the therapeutic aspects of colors and painting. It makes me feel happy, and that's the goal isnt it?

I am grateful for solitude. I am grateful for spending time with myself NOT focused on my shortcomings. Theres a difference between spending a night happy and distracted eith netflix, and a night depressed distracted with instagram. I had a much needed wake up call, and now we are on the mend, and that's a good feeling to sit with, even if I'm alone. Theres also a difference between being alone and being lonely. Right now, i don't feel lonely.

I am again grateful for money, and that i can afford to travel abroad this summer. I am grateful for the opportunity to do a service abroad in a less fortunate area. If that goes well and fills my bucket as much as it sounds, maybe joining the peace corps will be a real option. There are so many possible paths to take at this point in my life. Id like to think that somehow I'll end up there.

Speaking of that, I'm grateful for optimism. I feel happy that since the social media ban i have hope again. I feel proactive and optimistic and youthful. I think it was a really good move for me.

I am grateful for my family. My sweet supporting parents and my funny cute mom. My sweetheart dad. I am grateful for my brothers even if we don't exactly talk every day. Blood is thicker than water. I miss them.

I am grateful for my life tonight. When i had my breakdown a couple days ago, i had really strong urges to cut. I had really strong suicidal thoughts. I wondered if my balcony on the 3rd floor would be enough of a drop to kill me, or just break some bones. I think I'm more content thinking that i would survive the fall, it deterred me from doing it. But i really thought about it. But laying here in the same bed staring at the same wall thres days later, i feel different. I don't mean to sound dramatic saying that my mentality is drastically different, but maybe it's nice that i think so.

I don't want to jump off my balcony. I don't want to cut up my hips. I want to sew holes in my backpack. I want to buy plants for the balcony. I want to live. I want to stay alive so badly. I want to experience this school for all that it's worth. I want to have tough classes. I want to continue these friendships and make them stronger. I want to sing and dance alone in my room. I want to watch a bunch of old netflix shows. I want to look at the cieling of fairy lights and flower strands. I want to study abroad and help someone and brush up on my spanish. I want to see what paths i end up taking. I want to live. Nothing is too hard that i can't handle. I've seen again and again how my support system has my back. No matter what i choose, I'm gunna be fine. Financially, physically, emotionally I'll have some shit happen, but if i can survive what i have, i can do anything. If i can survive losing all of my college friends and having an entire school hate me, i can do anything. If i can survive a traumatic experience, i can do anything. I am living and breathing right now for a reason.

I am strong.

Even if i don't feel it all the time or see it in myself all the time, the fight is there. It's faint some days, but theres a push. To keep going. To get to that next class. To avoid the wrong foods. To get the work done. To put on those layers to get me through the day. I am strong and i will choose to keep living. And i will live gracciously. Life is a gift not an entitlement. And tonight, right now, god i am so gracious.

#samiswriting

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