#i was stressed af and then though wait..what if i drew The Girls Ever

[stefisdoingthings]

insurance girlfriends :3

[professional-yapper]

Proximity pt. 3

Neteyam x Olangi! Reader

Warnings: awkwardness, more denial, pretending certain things didn't happen, Neteyam is STRESSED, reader is homesick and anxious af, Omaticaya girls hating on her cause they want Neteyam (who could blame them), Lo'ak is Lo'ak

Neteyam didn't know what he'd done wrong. He'd been pacing the floor of the hut you two were supposed to share, to live in together forever in less than a week, vaguely aware of the fact that he was probably going to wear a hole in the floor if he kept this up but decided he had bigger problems to worry about.

Like how you hadn't spoken to him beyond a few words, ducking your head, letting your braids cover your face every time so he couldn't see your expression, since he'd kissed you.

Had you not liked it? You'd said you didn't mind, but... maybe he'd misread the whole thing. Maybe he'd scared you off for good by kissing you after barely a few days of knowing you.

He couldn't help himself. You'd just looked so good, standing there with the sunlight bringing a warmth to you that he'd never seen before, with that starry look in your eyes like all your worries about the impending union had been wiped away. By him.

Or, at least, the home he'd built for you.

Even if you hadn't spoken to him in what felt like weeks, the hut was still rich with your presence in sweet, subtle ways.

Neteyam searched for them now, eyes flicking about the room like a child scrambling for a security toy. He found himself doing this often, in the same order, whenever he was stressed. It had been subconscious at first, then grew into an unshakeable habit.

First, your cloak, hung neatly on a peg near the entrance, smelling even now, albeit faintly, of dry grass and direhorse.

Secondly, a few small pots of paint. You'd use it for your ceremonial paint for the union. But for now it remained untouched, sitting on one of the shelves. Waiting.

The wind chimes. Your wind chimes, now, really. They'd confused you at first, but even on days without wind, now, you'd set them going with a simple brush of the fingers as they passed by.

A half-carved direhorse. You'd been making wooden animals for Tuk lately, possessing a talent for woodcarving even Jake or Neytiri couldn't rival. But you hadn't finished this one for some reason, and so there it sits on the window sill, as it has for weeks now.

Your knife sheath. Tough, practical, like everything else you owned.

Not that you had a lot of things. The Olangi were so minimalistic, which, to Neteyam, seemed something of a miserable existence.

The Omaticaya adored beautiful things, surrounded themselves with them. Pretty trinkets, sparkling stones, colourful, intricate clothes...

Neteyam wanted to share all of that with you. He didn't even know if you wanted anything to do with the Omaticaya culture and way of life, but he knew he wanted to share it with you. Badly.

But you wouldn't even look at him.

Neteyam sighed, stepping in the middle of the hut, clasping his hands over the back of his neck as he looked at your few belongings, wondering if he'd rushed things, ruined it all, ruined what could have been a perfectly good union.

Meanwhile, across the village, you were having your own problems. Well, you didn't have a problem. But the slender, rich blue Omaticaya girls adorned in pretty, delicate clothes approaching you seemed to.

"You're the Olangi, right?" the girl at the forefront asked with a smile.

"Yes," you said, brow furrowing in confusion as they drew nearer, though they seemed a little wary of your direhorse, your precious Akicita, who was quite a bit bigger than the Omaticaya direhorses and nowhere near as gentle.

Well, he behaved for you, but you'd been with him from almost his birth. You were all he knew, and now more than ever, since you'd brought him to this strange place with no familiarity to it whatsoever.

"Did you need something?" you began, turning from Akicita to face them fully. "Only I'm busy, I-"

You were busy. You knew brushing them off probably wouldn't endear yourself to the Omaticaya further, but you were.

With bomb-proofing Akicita, that is.

There were a lot of new distractions and things to scare or startle him. You didn't want any accidents, so you spent your morning walking and riding him alternately around camp, introducing him to everything.

"Neteyam will never love you," the same girl said, interrupting you, her words punctuated by her friends' laughter.

You kept your expression carefully impassive, and turned back to Akicita, stroking his shoulder to calm him as he stamped his hoof, shaking his big head unhappily as he felt the hurt strike through you. "I know," you said, voice taut with the effort of not snapping at them for having the audacity to even speak to you about such things. "What is it to you? You have an even lesser chance of winning his affections than I do."

She looked like she'd been slapped.

You'd only spoken the truth, so you couldn't even begin to imagine why she then hissed at you, causing Akicita to whinny, trying to bully his way between you and them.

"You are nothing to him, just a-" she began in a voice that was unsteady with false brightness, only to be cut off.

"Just a what?" a familiar voice piped up, and the equally familiar form of Lo'ak entered your vision as he ducked under Akicita's head to stand next to you, nudging the direhorse out of the way fearlessly.

Lo'ak and Akicita had taken a liking to each other for reasons you couldn't decipher. Neteyam said it was because they were both troublemakers.

Damn. You'd been trying not to think of him. After the kiss and everything... You'd barely been able to look him in the eye. What kind of Olangi were you, to throw yourself so shamelessly at him like that? You were a disgrace, plain and simple. He'd been the one to kiss you, but you didn't have to be so pathetic about it.

It made you dizzy just thinking about it.

"Go on," Lo'ak encouraged, bouncing on the balls of his feet, eyes bright as he stared at the girls. "My brother's future mate is just a what?"

She hissed at him too, but her friends withdrew, melting back into the village like they'd never been there, clearly not wanting to square up to the second son of Toruk Makto. She had no choice but to go too, casting you a nasty look over her shoulder.

Lo'ak shrugged, then turned and gave you a lopsided smile. "They're bitches."

You repeated the unfamiliar word back to him, though it felt clumsy in your mouth. It must be English. Neteyam had told you their father had taught them a little. Damn. You had to stop thinking of him.

It did nobody any good, not you or him. You'd made a silly mistake, blinded by the allure of your first kiss and him, and you shouldn't have kissed him. You were supposed to wait.

Not that that was the way of all Olangi, but you were the youngest child of the olo'eyktan. You couldn't just go around kissing people like that.

"Hey," Lo'ak said, giving your shoulder a shake. "You okay? Breathe, bro. You look like you're about to pass out."

"I'm fine," you managed, shaking your head.

He shrugged again. "If you say so." He seemed uncomfortable for a second, looking at you intently. Then he spoke again. "I don't actually like you all that much, y'know?"

You blinked slowly, absorbing that. Then you mimicked his shrug. "No one seems to around here." You turned back to Akicita, feeling like crying, which you hadn't for years. How could you, when you had been so happy?

You missed your home. No one had ever insulted you there. You were with people you loved and who loved you.

"Hey, no, wait, I'm not done," Lo'ak rushed out, following after you as you took ahold of Akicita, leading him away. "I don't like you, but my brother does. So why have you been ignoring him? He's really upset about it."

You raised your eyes skyward, asking the Great Mother for patience. "We kissed," you said bluntly, slowing your walk to let Lo'ak catch up.

His eyes went wide. "Wow! Really?"

"I have brought shame upon myself and my family by throwing myself at him so shamelessly," you continued in a monotone.

The way Lo'ak tilted your head told you he had no clue what was so shameful about it.

"We must be joined before the eyes of the Great Mother before we can... kiss," you explained, curling your lip and baring your fangs at him in exasperation. "And everything else."

"Dumb," Lo'ak announced loudly, clasping his hands behind his back as he walked alongside you. "We don't do that. You can kiss him if you want. You don't have to be mates to kiss someone."

"You have to where I'm from," you sighed. "And I did want to kiss him. I still want to."

Lo'ak's nose scrunched, brow furrowing. "Ew. You can keep that to yourself."

You rolled your eyes and shoved him. "Are you trying to help or trying to make things worse?"

"I'm not making it worse. You're making it worse by not talking to anyone except your giant fuckin' horse," he pointed out.

He was right, and you hated that. "How was I supposed to know the cultural differences ran so deep? I thought Neteyam would be ashamed too! That he would not want to see me!"

"Eywa, you're stupid. He's giving you space," Lo'ak huffed at you, tail lashing out and hitting you smartly on the back. "Just talk to him. Please. He's so depressed. It's driving everyone crazy."

"You are truly annoying," you said, hitting him back across the leg with the flat of your tail. "Fine. I will talk to him. And then we will kiss." The last part was just to annoy Lo'ak more, and he wrinkled his nose again, shoving you.

"Bro, shut up!" he laughed.

Taglist: @luvv4j4ybe11 @ikeyniofthetayrangi

@ikeyniofthetayrangi @rivatar @lunamochii

@mochamochimoch1015 @oakbuggy

some people who wanted to see part 3 too I couldn't tag, sorry if I missed you 🥺 let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

Also rip to everyone who wanted more fluff, I couldn't resist 👍

Part Four >

[roxy-davenport]

Bad Luck on Christmas

Pairing: Crowley x Reader

Beta: @gettinjoyful

Word Count: 1,651

A/N: This was written for @webcricket’s SPN Advent Challenge day 12 with the prompt, Christmas Disaster. Fluff. Crowley to the rescue.

                Also on AO3 (http://archiveofourown.org/works/13055364)

You woke up in Crowley’s loving arms, smiling at your beloved as he drew you into his chest.

“How did you sleep, pet?” Crowley cooed.

“After the day I had yesterday...actually, surprisingly well. I always sleep well when I’m with you,” you stated with gentle kisses on his neck.

“Your personal sandman,” Crowley replied with a smirk.

You chuckled at that idea.

“Indeed, you are. How lucky for me.”

And boy did you feel lucky to snag the King of Hell himself. He was always there when you really needed him, like yesterday. Now that was a disaster of a day.

You woke up looking forward to putting the final touch on all the Christmas decorations before making some amazing pie and dinner. That’s totally not what happened though.

Your bad luck started the moment you woke up. Your alarm clock was so loud and shrill, you thought you lost all hearing in that ear. You tried to shut it up without looking since you were tired and you really didn’t want to have to lean over the bed. So, you ended up swatting it and it turned off but it took the lamp with it, making them both crash to the ground. You bolted up. Dean and Sam ran into your room in their boxers, guns drawn. You quickly pointed to the ground and they gave you glares. You simply shrugged and the boys went back to sleep in their respective rooms.

You got up to fix the decorations. You meandered into the hallway and tripped over boxes of ornaments for the tree. Your hands flew out in front of you to stop your head from crashing onto the linoleum floor. Mission achieved, but sadly, your arms took a beating.

You got up slowly, with a groan, not noticing that your ankle was snagged in the ‘Christmas Decorations’ box. Whoops. Somehow, you really got your ankle caught. The entire wire was wrapped around you. In your effort to move slightly, you broke two ornaments. You embraced your place on the floor. Obviously, you were meant to face plant today so here it was. You growled angrily at the day you were having. It’s like Christmas was fighting back.

You stayed on the ground but tried to flip onto your back so you could at least see how tangled you were. Bad mistake because you crushed another ornament. You really hoped that wasn’t a family heirloom.

Halfway on your back you looked at how badly your ankle was stuck. The verdict was, you’d be here a while. The stupid thing was wrapped as tight as tourniquet. And there was nothing around you to untangle it with. Huffing out a frustrated breath, you stretched, half sitting up and extended your arms to carefully unwind the lights from your now hurt ankle.

When you finally got your ankle free, you were so happy you extended your arms out breaking a bowl that Dean placed on the side, not bothering to put it in the sink. Now, you’d have to clean pieces of plate off the ground.

You glared at the stupid box plotting its demise while you were making your coffee. You told the boys they needed to invest in a Keurig machine and after much pleading they did. You put a K-cup in and waited for some delicious coffee that would even out your mood. Regardless of the day, once you had your cup, you’d be on cloud nine. But it was taking so long to make it. It was as if the machine knew how badly you needed your coffee. Then once you had it, you spilled about half of the precious liquid on the floor because your still sleepy mind forgot there was a door right there.

Grumbling, you put down the coffee and attempted to grab the stupid Christmas decorations box. You dragged it, afraid to pick it up and create yet another disaster. When you finally got there, you were so happy. It was a long way to drag the stupid box, that was now half broken on the bottom, from all the dragging. You reached over and grabbed your cup of coffee, needing some caffeine to soothe your nerves. Much better,

When you turned around, you attempted to put lights on the Christmas tree. You slowly took out the stupid lights and placed them carefully around the tree and then plugged it in. You felt such a sense of accomplishment. The boys would love how you decorated it. What a treat for them when they woke up. Well, the moment was fleeting because in a minute all the lights went out in the Bunker. You blew a fuse lighting a Christmas tree. Wonderful.

“What the fuck happened Y/N?” a dreary Dean yelled your way.

“What does it look like Dean. My bad luck day continues, this time with a blackout. Brought to you by our crappy Christmas lights. Oh wait, who said we should spend ten extra dollars to buy the better-quality lights. Was it I?”

Dean growled and trudged in the dark to turn the lights back on. You stood by the tree and literally chugged the rest of your coffee. Then you took the lights out of the socket and was ready to smash them to pieces. You had to hand it to Dean, he got the lights back on really quickly.

Sam followed his brother into the room as they surveyed the damage. “Hey, where’s my bowl,” Dean questioned.

“Oh, you mean the one you left teetering on the edge when it should have been in the sink? Yeah, I broke it. This just in, I need a hell of a lot more coffee to get through this day.”

“Geez Y/N, you okay?”

“Aside from being stressed out, on Christmas no less, yeah, I’m fine. Don’t I look it?” you replied sarcastically. You sighed deeply before continuing. “You know, I was going to make you pie but-.”

“Let me help you sweetheart. Your day sounds pretty bad so I’d be happy to help.”

“I’ll get more coffee for all of us,” Sam offered.

“Thank you, Sam,” you said with a soft smile.

“No problem,” Sam replied with a soft tap on your back

You felt much better with the boys there and copious amounts of coffee but your nerves were still really shot. A car alarm went off and you nearly flew to the ceiling.

Your legs were shaking slightly, due to your frayed nerves, as you bravely tried to make some pie. You started mixing in the ingredients and boom, it was all over you and the ceiling in a second. How fun. How was that even possible though? You were just mixing it. Dean literally turned around to prep the oven and when he turned back, you were wearing the pie. What the hell?! That was the last straw and you literally screamed Crowley’s name. You had enough of this day.

He appeared immediately, expecting you to be half dead judging by the scream, but he just found you frazzled instead. You looked to be on the verge of tears, covered in what looked like flour and butter. Your whole body was tense.

“What’s wrong love,” Crowley asked you gently.

“This whole day is one big Christmas disaster,” you said in a sad, defeated tone, staring at the kitchen floor.

Dean shrugged behind you, somewhat confirming to Crowley what you just said. Crowley was silent, waiting to hear all about your day and how he could make it better. The boys had long since given up trying to separate you two and were now just grateful he was here.

“I got my ankle tangled on the christmas lights and it’s been throbbing ever since. I broke three ornaments, broke the box, spilled my coffee, broke a bowl, broke a lamp and my alarm clock and let's not mention the fact that I caused the fuses to blow in the Bunker. Thank Chuck, that Dean had spares. And now here we are with ruined pie. Such a fashion statement, no?” you said sarcastically, masking your anger and sadness with a joke.

Crowley’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s a lot of damage for such a small, sweet girl.”

“I know,” you said, so mournfully, he felt bad for teasing you.

“Forgive me, pet, for not arriving sooner. I should have checked on my kitten earlier. Alas, Christmas is a busy time in Hell and I literally couldn’t pry myself away sooner. But now that I’m here, I’m all yours darling.” Crowley held his arms open, waiting for you to step into the hug. Once you did, he drew you close to him, his lips on your forehead. “Good girl. Look darling, those are all small things. Simply a bad day on Christmas, no more, no less. And now I’m here and I’ll fix everything darling.”

Crowley snapped his fingers and everything you broke was now in one piece, the Christmas tree had lights on it and the pie was already done. Not to mention the feast he snapped in for lunch. “Merry Christmas, Y/N, I love you so much.”

“And I you,” you said with a bright smile.

Crowley spent the rest of the day dedicated to you. He ignored all calls from demons and Hell itself. He spent his time soothing your nerves and making you smile. All thoughts of bad luck were vanished from your mind. He gave you so many gifts, everything you wanted this year, and he constantly held you and kissed you, making sure you knew you were safe with him around.

And that’s how you woke up here, in his bed, in his earthly residential penthouse, your bad luck expunged and the promise of another full day with your King in front of you. With Crowley around, no day could ever really be a disaster, not really.

Tagging

Forevers: @killerofthesouth @charliebradbury1104, @chaos-and-the-calm67 @chelsea072498 @one-shots-supernatural @everyday-supernatural-af@kalliravenne, @delisp  @toogardenenthusiast, @winchesterprincessbride, @take-me-tonirvana, @hellsmother, @ellen-reincarnated1967, @faegal04, @evilskank-inthemegacoven, @mamaredd123, @atc74 @hamartiamacguffin, @donnaintx, @love-kittykat21, @impala-dreamer, @evansrogerskitten, @lucifer-in-leather, @riversong-sam, @rosie-winchester, @chaosinacoffeecup

Crowley peeps: @singingflames,  @jesspfly, @alangel1895, @raspberrymama, @raimie77, @daintyunicorn, @nothin-after-79, @gettinjoyful @jocyc1997, @imaginecrowleyspn, @ravenangel33, @alangel1895  @daughterofthebrowncoats, @boxer-pup, @crowley-you-sinnamon-roll, @crowleys-dungeon, @crowleysplaythings, @crowleyshellhoundproductions, @klaineaholic @jesspfly, @annabellerosemasters, @fuschiarulerinthebluebox, @kdfrqqg,  @manawhaat, @notnaturalanahi, @bkwrm523, @whispersandwhiskerburn,  @for-the-love-of-dean, @jelly-beans-and-gstrings, @deansleather, @deantbh @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname, @mrswhozeewhatsis, @wi-deangirl77,  @chaos-and-the-calm67, @jotink78 @babypieandwhiskey, @howmanytuesdaysdidyouhave, @notnaturalanahi @memariana91, @fandommaniacx, @mysaintsasinner, @winchester-writes, @vintagevalentinexx, @theficlibrarium, @itsemmyb, @crzcorgi, @deerlululucy, @growleytria, @thegleegeneration, @samtomydeanwinchester, @supermoonpanda, @i-never-said-a-pilot @sis-tafics, @ferferelli, @lilyoflothlorien, @chrisatplay, @faith-in-dean,  @for-the-love-of-dean, @gadreelsforbiddenfruit, @trenchcoats-and-bees, @curliesallovertheplace, @jencharlan, @not-so-natural-spn, @winchester-writes, @skybinx-blog, @thebunkerismyhome, @feelmyroarrrr, @winchesters-princess, @beachy2014, @tia58, @impossible-box, @katnharper, @sunriserose1023, @jotink78, @notnaturalanahi, @winchestersmolder@babypieandwhiskey, @howmanytuesdaysdidyouhave@marasficrecs, @damalseer@nixie-ravenwillow, @karlamoriarty, @revwinchester, @kittenofdoomage, @deansleather@whydoyouwantmetosaymyname, @faith-in-dean, @jelly-beans-and-gstrings, @supernatural-jackles, @whispersandwhiskerburn, @hexparker, @crowley-you-sinnamon-roll @scheherazades-horcrux, @talesmaniac89, @ajacentlee, @chelsea072498, @skybinx-blog @kittenofdoomage, @teamfreewill92, @maraisabellegrey, @winchester-writes, @fandommaniacx @archangels-lollipop @webcricket   @alexielwrites @waywardangelcupcake @yarabi99 @dmsilvisart @floreanfortesques @whatthefrickcrowley

[runespells-blog]

I need help

I'm currently twenty years old, a full-time college student, and I’ve been taking care of my grandmother for many years now.

When I was seven, my grandmother started drinking. She has always had anger issues, but alcohol made it worse. On one occasion she knocked two of my teeth out and busted my lip. I was waiting for the bus the next morning when she grabbed my arm tightly and said “If anyone asks you about your lip, say its a rash. This is what you get for acting up.” I didn't understand. She hit me because I didn't press play for a DVD fast enough. I said nothing. No one asked about my lip.

She continued to drink. As I grew older she would sit outside with her friends and tell me to make everyone food or bring them beer. I was in fourth grade and I was already handling alcohol. I couldn't stand the smell, but I couldn't just refuse, because I was afraid of getting hit.

Flash forward through the years of uncalled for beatings and beer-serving to eighth grade. I had asked my science teacher if I could finish up my science project in the back rooms of the main building; she said yes, and I spent the next hour bullshitting my way through a project I didn't even do to begin with. There are no clocks in the back building, and you can’t hear the bells when they ring, so I hadn't known that the bell had rung and my next class had already started. the vice principal came in and found me, told me to go to my next class, and told me she would be calling my grandma. I begged her not to. I told her that the teacher said I could work in the room, but she didn't believe me, and she didn't bother asking my teacher. She called my grandma and we spent almost an hour trying to sort everything out. My grandma called me a liar and forced me to apologize, and I did, just to please her. We get home and as I'm finishing up my project she goes to see our upstairs neighbor. She’s drunk when she comes back down and walks into the kitchen. I hear the sound of a lighter starting up, and a few minutes later I smell weed. I hear her say, “this shit is weak” and when she passes by me again she says “this is what you made me do.”

My freshman year passed by mostly uneventful, save for the fact that I was still getting bullied at school. My self-worth went down a lot, and during the summer after freshman year I started to self harm. It was little things that no one would really see or take a second glance at. I would dig my nails into my arms, or scratch the back of my neck so hard I drew blood. I would binge some days, purge, then not eat for three or four days at a time. I hated myself; I believed everything my bullies said, and my grandma would essentially say the same things in a more motherly condescending way. On one night I was doing summer reading in the living room: it was Of Mice and Men, and I made a decent dent in the book for one day. My grandma, who had been outside drinking with her friends again, came in and went to the kitchen. she put some meat on a skillet, told me to watch it, and went to go take a shower. It should be said that when she drinks, she consumes around seven or eight cans of beer, and she’s a complete lightweight. She comes out of the shower ten minutes later, checks the meat, then sits down at the couch. She asks me what I think the title means. I say I don't know, I'm just a couple chapters into the book. She then proceeds to go on a rant about the book. I sit there and listen. I see smoke coming from the direction of the kitchen and smell burning meat. I tell her the food is burning and there’s an immediate switch in her. She knocks everything off the table, throws a book at me, and throws a fork at my dog. She told me I was stupid and that I never listened, that I'm a terrible student and daughter, that I will never be anything other than a two cent whore. She makes me clean up the mess she made, then sends me to my room. I cry for hours. I make up my mind. I wait until its around 3am, sneak into the kitchen, and sift through her pills. At the last second I change my mind. If I got caught, I’d be taken to the hospital and have my stomach pumped. I grab a knife from the drawer and sneak back into my room. I think about everything my grandma and bullies said, and start to cut my wrists and arms. I was the first time I ever cut myself; I couldn't remember how many times I cut myself. I could feel the blood, and I just hoped that if I didn't try to cover it up I would bleed out before my grandma woke up. I woke up around noon with nothing but aching arms and bloody sheets. My grandma never apologized, saying I should let it go.

My sophomore year was even worse. A bully reported me to the office, saying I was suicidal. She provided pictures of my posts on Instagram as proof: those edgy af tumblr girl depressed quotes, one of the counselor's favorites being “should I kill myself or have a cup of coffee?” My grandma is called in. She’s crying, asking me how I could do this to her. I'm given time off of school and the administration tells me to get myself evaluated. Despite this, I feel relief. I was finally getting help-- or so I thought. My grandma calls up her friend’s husband who’s a psychiatrist, and a shitty one at that. We meet, I tell him that I feel depressed, alone, and scared. We come out of his office and he says, “she’s not depressed, she just has a big heart.” This asshole is my psychiatrist for the next six months, and every session made me feel worse. I told my grandma that I really do feel depressed and that I want to be evaluated properly. Her reply was “I had times when I was younger when I felt like I was depressed. youll get over it.”

I don't get over it. I self-harmed my way through high school and well into college. Last year I started working for my college’s drama department. On my first day of work my grandma calls me to tell me she’ s going to the hospital because she‘s coughing up blood. She spends the next 2-3 weeks in the hospital, I go to school, work, and take care of the house. A month and a half later she has back surgery. The nurses on the floor think of her as an absolute terror. She begged and guilt-tripped them for pills, would argue with them, refused to do physical therapy, and would try to get up and wander around the room. She was so drugged up she couldn’t recall where she worked, what year it was, or what her name was. She was like this even after they discharged her, and I was forced to become her nurse and caretaker. She was in that drugged up state from August to the end of December.

In January I found out she took almost $400 out of my bank account. It was all money I saved up from my job, meant to be the start of my funds for a car or cheap apartment. She spent $200, gave me the rest, but forced me to pay her back.

This is where the advice comes in. It’s now September. For almost four days, my grandma has been mixing her pills, which has sent her into that drugged up state again. She’s combative and unable to be reasoned with. I’ve cleaned up every mess she makes in the mornings and evenings. She can’t even grab onto anything; she misses her target completely or simply knocks everything over. She fell last night, and the medics who responded were concerned with leaving her alone because she can hardly walk or speak clearly. They made the point that she’s pretty much a fire hazard, too dependent on someone who is too weak to help her (me), and that even with crutches she has a difficult time getting around. They wanted to call adult protection services to get her in a home or treatment. I said yes, she said no, she doesn’t want to. They left. It’s just her an I, and even though I’ve been taking care of her for over a year it’s gotten to the point where I just can’t anymore. She treats me like a servant slave. I hate saying this, but the mess and stress of this all is too much for just me to handle. I’m considering calling APS myself because I can’t do this anymore. She refused to get help, refuses any kind of treatment, is a danger to herself and others. I can’t help someone who doesn't want to be helped, but maybe I can get someone else to help her. Should I call APS? Or does anyone know of better Texas alternatives? I don't know what to do or what decision is the right one.