#so I can buy myself like...a week of time before I go buy yarn

[glassandmetalwings]

I'm going to make a crochet mistake this week and Mom is going to kill me for it.

AKA I'm starting a THIRD doll bc this one is giving me brainrot.

[tinknevertalks]

Oh, I said I'd show you my new hat. I got a skein of yarn back in July (I think) when I went to Bath. I'd wanted to buy fluff but they didn't sell any anymore (very annoying when their google listing made it look like they did, but whatever, we roll) so I got 100g hand dyed yarn by Uschitita - expensive but worth it.

Fast forward to two weeks ago. I'm in a knit/crochet in public day in the craft shop, working on the last of my shawl. On a whim, I pick up a ball of West Yorkshire Spinners double knit in like a lime green. It's pretty standard, nice to work with.

"I need a new hat," I tell Craft Shop Lady.

Start crocheting said hat. It is not going how I want it, and I can never shape dk beanies properly (I used to use Repeat Crafter Me's patterns, but she uses aran weight and I don't really vibe with aran weight). So even though I've done eight rows, I frog it.

Ribbit.

Because I know I have to knit it.

"But Rachel, you're a crocheter, you crochet therefore you are!" I know! But I wanted the zigzag stitches you get with knitting.

So I bought a circular needle. The wire is way too short, but Craft Shop Lady was very nice and let me swap it. Except we swapped like for like. 🙈 By the time I'd realised it was Sunday afternoon, the shop was closed and I *really* wanted to knit my hat.

Cue me not remembering how to cast on. So I google it, and remind myself and oh!

I've got some knitting on the go! Look, it's so pretty!

(Yes, I know it looks small, it's the loop.)

I kept at it, even though at the start I couldn't recognise my purls in a sea of knits, and today (well, technically yesterday but roll with it) I finished it!

I love how it looks. My one note is, if I made this again (and I probably will, as it's a comfy hat), I'd knit for a full seven inches before doing the shaping, rather than the six and a half they say in the pattern. Oh, and maybe get some double pointed needles for the last two rows? It was very fiddly decreasing down to seven stitches on the circular needle.

But yeah, that's my new hat. I'm tempted to make cat ears to put on it but I'm lazy so I doubt I will. 😂

[checanty]

The other week both my ancient (10 years!) winter coat and my beloved creepy tote bag (7 years) decided it was a good time to break. I have to admit I have been toying with the idea of getting a new coat already, especially as it’s growing pretty threadbare in general, but I also feel very strongly about making the things I already own last and let’s face it: I can get another 3 years or more out of that coat. And I do still like it. It’s just old and worn and looks like it. (But I’ll keep an eye open when I go thrifting from now on...) By tote bag has a special place in my heart as well because I ordered it from my own Society6 shop back in the days when I was new to being a pro illustrator and seeing your own work on a physical (and useful!) object is always very exciting! At the time I would have loved to order a bag for each of my artworks, but thankfully I did not, even though it was more money constrains than awareness for environmental issues that held me at bay. Nowadays I think a lot more about how our actions impact our planet, both because I love the natural world (which we imo mistakenly separate from our human ‘civilization’) and everything living in it (apart from ticks), but also because I’m worried about our--let’s face it: my own--future. I know that especially over here in the wealthy west we’re consuming we’re consuming far more than is sustainable. Thusly, whenever I’m promoting my print (and merch) shop, I’m a little bit torn. I of course want people to buy my art so I can make a living, but I also want to promote making conscious consumer choices aka not buying stuff on a whim or to make yourself temporarily feel better only to regret your purchase later, but being sure you actually want and will treasure something or really need something before clicking ’buy’. Anyhow, I’ll be using my tote bag until it fully disintegrates (and then I’ll probably use it to stuff a pillow :D). Some years ago I stumbled upon the concept of ‘visible mending’, which was primarily appealing to me because I’m pretty bad at sewing and not being able to make something look ‘as good as new’ kept me from pro-longing my clothes’ lives. However, most of the cute ‘visible mending’ examples feature nice embroidery and let me tell you: I also cannot embroider at all and ‘the mending has to look stylish’ is putting just as much pressure on myself as ‘it has to look new’. My takeaway, however, was that it’s okay if people can see that my clothes had holes once (and now very amateurish stiches). Caring for my belongings and making them last, reducing the amount of resources I use and not supporting fast fashion is part of my value system and I’m ok if people notice.

So now when something tears my measurement of mending success is whether or not I can use it again. Yes, I could have gone the extra step of at least buying some darker yarn to match my bag, but that extra step would have taken me weeks (not kidding. this stuff ends up on my ‘to do’ and will just never be done) to accomplish and my bag would have started to accumulate dust. Now it’s fixed and can go back to carrying groceries for me. I also sewed my coat button back on and the entire procedure took less than an hour and both items are back in use, hooray! Anyhow--I guess here’s a link to my Society6 shop. Please only buy when you’re willing to keep the purchase forever and ever!

[squeakpip]

hello there!! how's your week been? any projects, playlists, books, recipes, etc that strike your fancy to ramble about?

i've been sick this week but i am slowly overthrowing the goop that has taken over my body. putting this together has been a nice distraction, so it got super long

Knitting

just before i got sick, i put a (mostly) handspun cardigan to block. the spinning of this was a tiny bit of a spite project, based on how frequently people talk about "muddy" colors in handspun in a disparaging way. as a brown lover, i took offense and decided to make a rainbow-but-brown cardigan incorporating every technique i could think of that people tell new spinners not to use because it will muddy their yarn. the last two pics gives a vague sense of how much optical color mixing you get from afar vs. up close, but the effect works better irl.

(fiber is all corriedale from Hello Yarn's fiber club)

i used 8+ years old leftover brown cascade eco for the cuffs, hem, pocket trim, and double-knit buttonband. this bit me in the ass, because i ran out with about 6" of band to go, and obviously couldn't get a dyelot match. thankfully, it was the button side of the band so the lighter bit will be mostly hidden, but i am pissed that i had to buy another 250g skein of yarn for a project where i was using up leftovers. also my button order got canceled so i need to source new ones. perhaps this project is slightly cursed. but i'll stash it away until autumn and it'll feel like i get a new sweater, just like i imagined, that i didn't even have to knit.

Spinning

currently working on two different spins, both for scarves.

on my spinolution wheel i have a brown-green-blue-white gradient destined to be woven, although i haven't been able to find the right weft yet. (fingering weight, plied, primarily nonsuperwash wool, pale pink that leans coral/orange...) i may end up dyeing it myself if i haven't found the right yarn by the time i get to weaving it.

i'm also spindling the finest yarn i possibly can, for some sort of garter stitch lace shawl situation. the fiber is a decently textured batt that includes silk nepps, so it will be gently tweedy. everyone who sees it says the fiber looks like bacon, but it's based on the dyer's cat, Mungo.

Weaving

before i got sick, my goal was to warp my loom for floral overshot kitchen towels, which is what everyone in my family will be getting as a winter holiday gift. maybe next week when i am more confident in my ability to count.

Music

here's what's been stuck in my head lately for each language i speak. apparently i'm stuck in the 90's and very much the bug, not the windshield this week

Vittles

my go-to tea for the past 6 months has been a 50/50 mix of adagio's hazelnut and this baked apple tea. this started as an attempt to make the most autumnal tea possible (and tone down the cinnamon of the baked apple), but i recently committed to it enough to pre-mix a whole tin of it instead of just blending it in the infuser. i take it with homemade vanilla syrup and milk.

any day that i'm not eating çilbir i'm thinking about when i can have it again

i'm also obsessed with claire saffitz's gooey butter cake recipe (if you have ever wanted to just eat cake batter, this is the cake for you).

i have recently perfected my pretentious grilled cheese game with

some type of fruit preserve (i've used earl grey and apple jelly, apple butter, marmalade)

one slice of american cheese for melt

one slice of trader joe's scotch bonnet cheddar for heat

thick cut ham

homemade pickled red onions

serve with sliced cucumber or tomato sprinkled with cavender's seasoning, and/or apple slices, preferably arranged in a silly design so you feel like your adult self (sandwich) is reaching through time to shake your toddler self's (sides) hand

i've also been making what can only be described as a vaguely korean crunchwrap, which started as a fridge clean-out meal and has taken on a life of its own

trader joe's frozen bulgogi beef

egg scrambled over the reheated beef

matchstick carrots or cucumber

pimento cheese spread

kimchi

cilantro

green onion

tortilla chips for crunch (optional, i rarely have chips around)

wrapped in a flour tortilla, griddled until golden

Other Things I've Been Enjoying Lately

my new haircut and color (lime green! i've never dyed my hair before! i'm such a brave little cartoon character now!)

https://weepingwitch.github.io/sudoku

https://www.youtube.com/@BerylShereshewsky

modded minecraft. i'm splitting my time between vault hunters (i am so so bad at it), my own whimsical but slightly dark fantasy 1.20.1 pack, and my gritty 32x conquest+ pack inspired by https://www.youtube.com/@lowresbones's the hammer series

daydreaming about an unfaithful recreation of my favorite summer drink from a closed cafe. their thing was orange juice, soda water, and jasmine syrup. i made jasmine syrup last summer and it turned out weirdly grassy and gross, so i'm going to try lavender or rosemary instead.

speaking of rosemary, i also have the stuff to make brown butter rosemary rice krispie treats! can't wait until i have the energy to both make and eat food that's interesting again. herby sweet treats my beloved <333

[mcalhenwrites]

So in preparation for moving, I'm going through all my stuff. I have a donation box, I have stuff I need to mail people (esp if I can get to some WIPs of gifts I have)... It's a bit overwhelming, bc health is so bad that getting everything done is hard. (That's also why I started packing last week. I know I can't do it at once with my low spoons.)

The elephant was made for a friend but I haven't talked to him in a long while (we just fell out of touch) and the poor thing is homeless, and this baby blanket continues to be unsold. I really wish I could place them somewhere and actually make some money (which would help, bc moving + S&H of some of the gifts I want to finish and send). But yeah. (Also, I hate etsy, I only use it to shop, and a lot of the artists I was buying from are begging for people to use their shops from their own websites due to the cut etsy takes these days. I don't have resources or web know-how, so... yeah. Whatever. haha.) Also, I miss my gremlin cat, she fucked up these (seahorse is mine iirc, but she got the cat charm's ear)... I really think the cat charm isn't too bad, maybe it could have a home someday too.

Then there's my collection of shit that I just... have either finished or is nearly finished or just needs a little more work?

I don't remember what stitch I was even USING on that baby blanket. The bunny just needs sewn. (Hate.) Same with the fucking pumpkin, that square bit of orange ombre. XD ACE FLAG TURTLE... That was supposed to be for a friend. Appa??? (I have yet to watch Avatar, meant to and never did, but I THINK that's the name) TEEPO (for myself) (I might be able to salvage it?) Um... Tikki from Miraculous Butterfly bc I wanted to make her, but never fucking finished... A PIG? A BUNNY? DUMPLING? CAT? I don't know. It's a fucking graveyard. This is only a dent in my WIPs, bc I still have Willow, Tessa, Lester (all OCs)... I packed Tessa and Lester away though. They'll wait till after the move. I want Willow done... if I can settle on his design finally LOL I also found a friend who runs a studio who'll take a bit of yarn I don't want off my hands. (Same one that Appa??? is meant for, actually, so maybe I can send it all together???) AND I FOUND IGNIS I WILL FINISH HIM FOR LATT I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD I WILL NOT LET THAT POOR MAN GO UNFINISHED (plus he can be sent with other stuff) And I know I have a sore spot about people always interacting with my crochet but ignoring my writing especially when I said, "I'm quitting crochet bc of fibro and to focus on my writing" and people reacted badly to the news, as if I wasn't posting shit like this years before I quit:

Yeah. Not sad that's behind me. ;A; Especially when I'm posting stuff like this and still wholly feel this sentiment:

And never had time to do it. And it felt like no one cared, and only recently does it feel like finally people do want my writing. IDK it's painful. It's a mess. I don't know if I can easily go back to crochet. If I do, I have to be so fucking careful to never fall into this pit, and I honestly am anxious about this post bc it's clear I do want to make gifts... but that attracted so many bad characters into my life. The free pattern demands, the free gift demands, some people being one week into trying to be my friend and thinking they're being crafty sending me amigurumi pictures of their favorite characters and going "I wish I had this" COOL GO LEARN TO CROCHET :) And people seeing what I did and never even commenting on my work, just going "pattern?!" or going "how did you do such and such and such" as if I am an instructor with all the free time in the world.

So that's why I only post OCs, and why I have told people not to share their gifts if they do get them... or to just simply not credit me if they post them. Do not leave a trail back to me. XD So yeah, weird history with crochet, but... maybe I'll get some OCs done after I clear stuff out. Focus on myself, bc I never do, despite saying I will. I seldom make myself the things I want to. And it's my time, materials, and spoons! Also, no, if I finish stuff, I'm not posting images unless it is OC related, unless it's a rare time like now that I'm okay with displaying a few projects. Which is nearly never. I have my writing back. I'm still depressed af, but mental health is still tons better bc I stopped guilting myself that my writing time needed to be crochet time. I missed it so bad. Not crying bc I am relieved, nope. :') (I'm crying.)

[elizabethplaid]

a few more knitting notes for the night

Well, I didn't clean off the whole couch like I planned, but I at least sifted through the in-progress yarn bin.

I counted my deflated (not-yet-stuffed) pumpkins: 2 large and 7 mini. That's all the stuff I've knit since the last "stuffing spree", back in August. So 9 back then, 9 now = 18 pumpkins.

Next step is to tidy the yarn I've worked with over the summer. Some already went back in the big bin. A couple skeins need to be rewound. I need to separate a two-ply novelty yarn, to separate the eyelashes from the pom-poms. (It looks like clown pox, I stg.)

The leftover yarn bits from the Pantone hat were also loose in my bin. I don't want to start the 2nd hat yet, because Caron (the yarn company) really made the hanks look amazing. I'd like to display that next to the hat I made, so people can see why the colors are like that.

------------ I showed my dad the "harvest" of deflated pumpkins, along with the stuffed ones I've stashed away. (Also showed him the group photo from August.) He asked about pricing, and I said $10-15 for the smaller ones and $20-25 on the larger ones. He made a face and implied the prices were too high. I said Neighbor-G would fuss at me if I priced them too low, and I'm going to offer a discount for people buying multiple items.

If anyone wants to do a trade or partial trade, I would absolutely love that. Craft fair aside, K (from the library) and I have already discussed trading work between us. I plan to knit her a hooded scarf, and she will help me out with some quilting things. LL-J has destashed a bunch of yarn on me, so I don't mind giving her discounts or gifts. (I gave her 2 or 3 pumpkins last year.)

I know I won't sell everything, especially the pumpkins. I didn't make many cowls for that exact reason. It's 3 cowls (I decided to sell the dark green one), 2 scarves, the pumpkins, the cat-toy mice, and anything else will be display. (eg the Pantone hat, Harmony's sweaters, my leaf and mermaid shawls, etc)

Ugh, semi-irrationally, I'm pissed. Like, of COURSE I know pricing is tough. Appropriate for time-effort-materials versus what "sells", without alienating potential customers. I'm not trying to make a living, but I also know that whatever's left might make me feel discouraged.

Thank god for Neighbor-G being so supportive of me. She's the one that got me to attend (just displaying stuff for fun) in 2019. She's already jokingly warned me about pricing myself too low. She feels like the encouraging female role model that I really need, especially because she knows crafts and pricing and such. And dad trusts her, after working together in the community for many years.

2020 and 2021 were really rough for me, after a few years of decline. (I think I was really out of it by the end of 2017, but 2016 was still really good for me.) I still haven't taken doll pics in ages, but I'm so happy to be crafting again. Volunteering at the library and befriending LL-J made a huge difference. I'm so incredibly proud of my progress - stuff that's easy to show off to other people, rather than just my own personal victories.

With rejection-sensitive-dysphoria, a little stumble or set-back can throw me off for quite a while. Example: The Pantone hat ended up being too small. I got pumpkins stuffed within a week or so, but I think it took another month before I really got back into knitting. (That was also when I was getting into the cell phone games, oops.)

My point is that bringing up the pricing issue is another RSD trigger to me. It feels discouraging to think of how much -won't- sell. And if it's not selling solely because of my pricing, that'd be a big pain. Again, I want to bargain and trade with folks. I'd rather stuff gets taken home by other people, rather than ensuring I make a big profit. And it might not even be for other craft fair items. Like, "hey, run to the store and fetch me a snack" or something.

I think K and my counselor would say that's good for networking and building a presence in the community.

-----------

HOLY FUCK, I just remembered I had a biscornu (embroidered pin cushion) I was supposed to sell! I set that aside, because I have to sew the panels together and stuff it. Holy fuck, holy fuck, that's hilarious. Like, I started that thing last October!

*sigh* I have 2 weeks. It doesn't have to be done all at once. I could probably stuff pumpkins while I man the table, and people would love it.

[dreamyolk]

I think you don’t have to continue using the timer after you’ve finished a specific project type if you want the hours. For instance, I finished a tapestry recently and it took around 400 hours. It was the first time I’ve ever done it but I won’t ever go below the base line of 400hrs($30) plus yarn costs.

You can also charge per day if that’s easier for you to measure. So if it took you two weeks you could assume that you either worked part time or full time to complete the project and assign the hours that way.

I charge per color and skein. The tapestry I made used around 20+ colors so I had to buy 40+ skeins of yarn to have enough. I didn’t use all of them in entirety so I would charge for the cost of every color and then double the cost for any color I needed to use the additional skein for. I too don’t have a way to measure yardage (or have I ever measured yardage aside from needing to know how much yarn I needed for a particular color block) but under the assumption that I would buy a new skein for any new project I use the system above.

You can, however, do a test on your loom with different yarn types to see how much yarn is used up per weight. Like 5in by 5in blocks with 3, 4, 5, etc.

You should also technically pay for your skill level so if you’re a novice, intermediate, or expert I would adjust the $ amount per level. I consider myself a novice of making tapestries specifically but in between intermediate and expert for loom knitting overall so that’s why I priced the tapestry at $30/hr for myself. However, because I really don’t think I’ll ever make that tapestry again and certainly not of the same size. I might charge more for it being ‘special edition’/‘one of a kind’

It’s also worth including the additional cost of learning to do something. If you have to learn a new technique, use different materials (buy a loom, work with yarn you’ve never worked with before), etc then you can tack on another fee. For instance, I broke a lot of strands of wool yarn because it’s not a medium I was used to working with but wool is also really fucking expensive so I’d want to cover having to buy more yarn just in case.

I hope this helps but I will leave a disclaimer and say that I’ve never sold any fiber art of my own and for those individuals wondering this is the tapestry I made 😊

I've loom knitted a few cardigans and wearables recently and someone asked how much I'd sell one for... I ducked the question cuz idfk.

I didn't time myself while making the thing.

99% of my yarn is second hand so it's a lot of partial skeins and/or yarn without labels so I have no clue how many yards went into it.

So what to do?

I guess I'll dig out the few full skeins I do have, with labels(wooo).

I guess I'll use the stop watch function on my phone every time I pick up my loom. (yay.)

Maybe then I'll have an estimate for the next person that asks for prices. 🤷

I imagine it'll be an obnoxious price. At this point I'm estimating it'll be about 50 hours to complete.

And the cost of yarn is a constantly adjusting variable.

I use thrifted, basic bitch, dead granny's estate sale yarn. I'm not picky cuz I can't afford to be.

But jo schmo ordering a custom cardigan might want pure alpaca wool. Idk how expensive that is.

See, an adjustable variable. An annoying adjustable variable.

On top of this tracking and planning to figure out pricing...it now feels like a chore.

I've started a cardigan and the stop watch is making me nervous. The yarn I'm using is a DK weight but I usually use worsted weight; is that going to fuck up the yard count?

Man, this sucks the fun outta it.

*sigh* I'm keeping notes on my phone.

Maybe I can do it lil by lil...

And just bounce to a project that feels more fun.

If anyone has advice on this stuff, let me know. I'm a novice with this side of fiber works. The sad business side. I just wanna make stuff.

[malevolententity]

WELCOME TO THE ANTI PROJECT UPDATE

decided on giving myself a little treat these past few days and watched episode 9 while frogging this blanket i was fortunate enough to be gifted like fourth hand! i have some ideas on what i may do with this yarn but nothing is set in stone. the colors are lovely but hated the blanket so. harvest. its was for harvesting.

also i hate frogging other peoples work. i hate how other people weave in their ends it is bad and awful and means i have to cut their work atleast twice per color to reball it and join it. the first few colors i did i had to cut like 5 times? and by the time i got to the final 3 i figured out how to only cut it twice and the last color i only had to cut once. but my god. hated unraveling and m so glad i gave myself the treat of episode 9 while doing this because it did take like 4 hours. especially with how much pausing i had to do to look at Just the work trying to frog it backwards at some points i just. i only got to watch 3 hours of aop since thats all i had left of the episode. HOWEVER! the timing worked out that when i was at the end of the last color it was the end of the episode as most of my pausing was in the very beginning.

be hold. a very angry photo at the blanket when i stopped the other day from frogging to give myself a rest. other crocheters should not be allowed to knot all their ends into normal stitches making it seemingly impossible to unravel their work. it is not a crime to have ur work be recycled by someone else >:I

SEASON THOUGHTS SO FAR

dudes what a fucking episode. i love getting to see more of the town and trying to figure out what the fuck is up. i am with the cast atm that the crystals healing you IS probably like the goo in the haunteds place that "heals" you but actually drains sanity. i am genuinely curious to see what happens to thaigo once they leave the town if his hearing goes away or if he stays repaired. m genuinely so curious to see how thats handled. i also. can not fucking believe. they were all told that fire bad. and thaigo then went 'cool so heres fire' bestie. what did you think was gonna happen? what the fuck was going thru ur brain.

ALSO HELLO DID THE MIST AND THE MAZE KILL THE HELPER??? HOW THE FUCK??? WAS HE WITH THEM AT THE FARM DURING COMBAT. WALK TO THE BLACKSMITHS. AND THEN WHEN THE DOOR OPENED HE WAS FOUND DEAD INSIDE. I WANNA KNOW WHAT THE MAZE WHISPER WAS SOOOO BAD WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO THE HELPER AND FELPS. WHAT DID HE DO TO MY LIL GUY HE WAS SO CUTE. justice for the helper. i got him for an episode and i want him back. if he doesnt come back ill be so sad even tho i knoooow he was clearly an npc that cell went "hey felps youd have fun as this limited time guy. come be a little guy for 3 hours" but like. i want justice for him he was so cute. bring him back to me.

NEXT PROJECT

i think i have my next project picked this blanket actually had all the yarn i needed sans 1 color! but m planning on this being a mock of the pattern to see if i can actually make it before going and buying the actual colors and weight that i want to do it in. so i might start that project sometime this week! m v v excited to see how much of the mock i can get done with this recycled yarn since i have No Idea how much of it i have. as i am. too lazy to figure out aprox how much yarn i have with math. i could figure out the grams/ounces and do worsted oz into yards but. no<3 self care<3 fuck it we ball<3 i have as much as i have and hope its enough<3 and if not oh well<3 its a mock so it Can get weird with the color switching if i need too<3

it also just. simply would not matter if i figured it out because my pattern doesnt tell me ANYTHING about how much yarn is needed for any colors it literally just says "lot of X colors and small amount of X colors" which is infuriating but. i guess thats just 2009 amigurumi blogspot patterns for ya

[reswhocareswhocareswhoca]

me being massively depressing under the cut

No one follows me anyway, so it doesn't matter what I say here. Nothing I do really matters anyway. I can wash the dishes, but they still pile up. I can do the laundry, but it still piles up. I can cook one day and starve the next because there's no food. And I can't just go out and buy more food or get creative in the kitchen and make a meal with what I have. I'm too disabled for that. It's a miracle when I can cook at all. Consistency is a pipe dream.

For the past three weeks, I've really been struggling to move. My FND has been really bad lately, which is heartbreaking because I was actually on kind of a good streak up until this relapse. I feel powerless. I have no idea how to help myself. I'm trying so hard to keep my spirits up but my heart is faltering.

The bathroom smells really bad and I don't know why because it's visibly clean but I'm too worn out to do anything about it, so even though I'm in the living room it still smells like shit and it has smelled like shit for days. My boyfriend doesn't smell anything though, and he has a wicked sense of smell. He usually smells things I can't smell at all, and if it is something I can smell, he can smell it much sooner than I can. But he doesn't smell the foul odor coming from the bathroom. I can't even go in there it's so bad.

I feel hopeless. Practicing crocheting was nice but now I'm out of yarn. I didn't want to order any because I wanted to actually physically go to the store for once to support brick and mortar stores but I think I'm just going to have to get it delivered. It is so rare that I'm in good enough shape to drive. I can drive maybe a couple of times a week, and only if it's sunny. My FND is so bad on gloomy days, and this has been a very gloomy winter. Also, I never drive farther than 10 minutes away, and the craft store is about 20-30 min away. It's an undertaking.

Sometimes I wish I could turn back time. I wish I could turn back time and manage my mental health from a young age so that I wouldn't get this stupid crap now. I know the cause of FND is unknown but it's correlated with stress and I suspect that's how I ended up like this. There's no way to know for sure, but this is what I suspect. I also kind of suspect COVID, I've seen quite a few headlines and articles regarding the relationship between COVID and FND, but honestly trying to read them upsets me so much that my condition flares so I can't really do it myself. Besides, I got FND months after receiving my vaccines. And I got COVID in 2021. And who knows? I could have had it more than that one time but stayed asymptomatic. I'm trying not to blame myself for opting to get the vaccine. I'm trying to tell myself that I was just trying to do my best with the information that I had, and that I got COVID anyways, so there's nothing that I truly could have done to prevent the FND onset anyway. If COVID is even the reason why I got FND anyways. Who knows what caused this? No one knows what caused this.

No one knows how to fix it either. I got my diagnosis and the neurologist just said there's nothing to do. I'm just stuck like this. I can't live. I don't even know what my options are. Should I go live in some in-patient facility somewhere? Should I go to another clueless therapist like I have five times before? I hate therapy. I hate it so much. It's the first solution people shove down your throat when you struggle with your mood and it's total bullshit I am convinced. I have been to five separate therapists and I swear it's nothing more than a venting session. I can vent to my mom. I can vent to my cat. I can vent into my journal. I can vent here. I have plenty of places to vent. Any question they ask is a question I've already asked my myself. It's such a waste of money I can't stand it. But apparently that bull is my only option and honestly, I'm not having any of it. Any improvement I have seen in my life happened when I WASN'T in therapy. Therapy is completely irrelevant. And way too damn expensive. Venting isn't enough. And I don't have a job anymore, so I'm definitely not paying for that crap now.

I don't know what to do. I'm a burden on my boyfriend. He is the biggest sweetheart in the whole world. When I'm doing bad (which has been most of the time, lately), he's the one who cooks, he's the one who cleans, he helps me shower, he helps me get dressed, he helps grab things for me when I can't go get them myself, he makes me smile and laugh on my worst days. He is my everything and I don't deserve him. He does all of this after breaking his back at his manual labor job every day and I don't deserve him. I don't have any friends. My mom is six hours away. My dad (also 6 hours away) means well but has zero emotional intelligence (okay, I should be fair, maybe like 40%), and he doesn't address my FND at all. Just pretends it's not there. I feel invisible. Nothing matters. What's the point of me being here at all? Just to be a weight on the shoulders of everyone I love? They don't deserve that. But I can't leave them out of "mercy" because I would break their hearts and mess them up for a long time. They tell me to be strong and fight through it. But how?! FND has no rules! No order! No rhyme or reason! How do you fight an invisible opponent who's playing a game no one has ever heard of before! One day, working out helps the condition. The next day, it makes it ten times worse. One day, forcing myself to complete tasks around the house works. The next, moving around is completely impossible. How do I fight something when I'm completely nerfed and the opponent makes its own rules? I feel betrayed.

I don't know what else to say. I feel like I've barely scratched the surface of my emotion, but I don't know what to say. I can't take feeling like this anymore. There's no way out. I'm losing my mind trying to stay calm and stay positive. I can't handle feeling alone anymore but I'm in no place to reach out to people. My misery has consumed my whole life. Any conversation topic someone could hope to have with me will be marred my FND's presence. "Oh, what do you do?" I stay at home. "What do you do in your free time?" Suffer. Okay, maybe I'm not that blunt. I do try to elegantly dance around these questions saying things like "Oh I just passed my state exams and am waiting on my license," or "I enjoy reading." But as the conversation unfolds there always comes a point where I must decide if I want to hide my FND or not. Every time I have to weigh that question in my mind, it hurts. It hurts feeling like something that has consumed my whole world will turn me into a pathetic freak in other people's eyes. But simultaneously, I feel like a faker! Like my FND "isn't that bad". I don't use a cane! I don't use a wheelchair! I don't have double vision! I can talk just fine if I'm not struck temporarily mute like I am sometimes! Hell, I can drive! I can work out at the gym! I can cook! I passed nail tech school and exams with this condition! Clearly I'm just being dramatic! Clearly it's all in my fucking head!!!!!

There's no consistency. How can one live without consistency? It's been taken away. I've been robbed.

I really want to go upstairs it smells like sewage down here but I can't move. I wish I could have some water but I'm out and I can't move. I wish I could make myself some oatmeal like I do most mornings but I can't move. I wish I could go to the library and pick up the book I have on hold but I can't move. What room is there for someone like me on Earth! Can't be a productive member of society? The sooner you die, the better. But I'm not dead. I'm too stubborn for that.

I try to meditate. Maybe if I remove myself from the ups and downs of life. Remove my ego. Become the river. Maybe then I can find peace. But I can't meditate, it triggers the FND. That's the whole point of doing yoga anyway, to make the body well enough to handle stillness and meditation. Apparently you can't truly meditate until you've mastered asana anyway. So they say.

Maybe I should get into writing. I don't have to worry about running out of yarn that way. But my mind stalls and my ideas are non-existent. I can't write what isn't there.

I feel hopeless.

[smallpotatoknitwear]

2022 crafting goals:

After failing spectacularly at my 2021 crafting resolution to make 12 blankets throughout the year (I finished 7 and made progress on about 4 others, so not too bad, really), I’ve decided to leave my goals for this year a little more broad!

Make more wearable pieces—that aren’t just hats and scarves. I’d really like to get some sweaters done this year. I started a sweater in 2020 that has been languishing, abandoned, at the bottom of a pile of crafting junk for an embarrassingly long time. I recently purchased some yarn (breaking resolution #2) to make some Granny-style crochet sweaters, and I can’t wait to get to work on those!!! I’ve also started some legwarmers, and am considering a heavy wrap/shawl because my office is absolutely freezing. I’m also going to try and finally use the sock-weight, hand-dyed yarn I bought back in 2020 and immediately forgot about for a tank top and maybe some hairbows.

Buy less yarn, and use up more of my stash. I have technically already broken this one, as I purchased… 39 skeins of yarn last week. what can I say—there were new caron cakes yarn FOR $5 EACH??? HOW COULD I SAY NO TO THAT??? However, I am also working on a mood blanket for this year, one of the goals of which is to reduce my stash. Additionally, for at least some of the wearable pieces I’d like to make, I can use up stash yarn to make them!

Learn to cross-stitch. I’ve been saying for YEARS that I want to learn counted cross-stitch, and my mom is an avid cross-stitcher who has agreed to teach me. So, if I get some time off from my two jobs at the same time at any point this year, I’m going to try and use that to learn cross-stitching!

Hopefully this works out to being less overwhelming than the “12 blankets in a year” goal I had last year which really wouldn’t have been nearly as overwhelming if I hadn’t been working 50 hours a week for a few months before quitting my job and getting so depressed that I couldn’t bring myself to craft. Just like last year, I’ll try and reblog this post with updates of the things I’ve made that fall into fulfilling these goals! Stay tuned!!!

[glassandmetalwings]

My life right now

Finances: Not so bad that I can’t take care of myself, but bad enough to stop me from treating myself to anything nice, even with gift cards.

Car: *Get stolen*

Car: *Gets recovered the next day, but gets put on police hold for being involved in other car theft incidents. According to towing company, very likely has had drugs used in it, so contents (nothing financially valuable, but sentimentally valuable, like a blanket from a not-popular series that I can’t find a replacement for) may be unsalvageable.

I get advised to buy another car-I have about 3 weeks to do this before my parents go on a retirement vacation bc I cannot drive the one vehicle we currently have. I have less than 10k to my name.

Besides the financial shock, feel personally violated and helpless.

Cannot get ahold of insurance person because of holiday. School starts tomorrow and I’m busy all day. Don’t feel ready for school. Debating if I’ll even be able to complete school this time, or if it will really accomplish anything.

Neurology department is closed because of holiday. I don’t know if they received my (now month-old) referral) so I can finally maybe get seen for my 2-year back pain issue. I now struggle to lift even 40lbs.

Give up on March anime con- one of two of the basically holidays I have during the year. Because even if I could afford to take the day off, I’d want to buy stuff. Questioning giving up on the big con in September.

Have to struggle with my stupid ADHD brain which wants to buy stuff, and finds at least momentary happiness in buying stuff, but not only can I not justify or afford anything, but any indecision tears me up and turns me into a self-destructive crying mess.

Major Pokémon card collector’s items currently available, with a special set dropping at the end of the month. Can’t buy it.

Limited edition twst perfumes from an indie perfume shop I follow on etsy. Can’t buy them.

Dice for games I don’t play. Yarn for projects I don’t need to do. Books/manga I don’t have time to read. Games I don’t actually need (like Violet). Incense I asked for for Christmas but didn’t get. Foods from restaurants bc none of our regualar family meals are ‘comfort food’ to me, and in fact the thought of eating them (even steak) makes me upset).

Feeling so tired and drained and knowing people are probably worried about my sudden radio silence after saying I felt suicidal, but just...being unable and unwilling to do anything. Feeling guilty when people try to reach out.

Crying. Again. And again. Struggling for air through sobs. Pretty sure at this point I can’t be fixed.

[bluejayblueskies]

tying the knot

written for week one of @archivalpride for the prompts pre-canon, self-expression, affirmation, and sharing clothes jewelry!

cw for mild internalized acephobia, teasing

also on ao3! (link in source)

.

“Do you like earrings?”

Jon lowers the book he’s reading and frowns at Tim. “Sorry?”

Tim’s laptop is propped on top of Jon’s shins where they’re resting atop Tim's lap, and he’s scrolling through some website that Jon can’t quite make out. “Earrings,” he repeats, pulling up a pair and swiveling the laptop so Jon can see. “I’ve got a coupon. Buy one get one free jewelry.”

“Not like that,” Jon says, wrinkling his nose at the gaudy dinosaur dangle earrings on the screen in front of him. He tugs at one of the small silver hoops in his earlobes and says, “I don’t really change mine. I’d take them out and let the holes close up, but keeping them in is honestly less work.”

Tim hums and turns back to the screen, clicking away from the earrings and continuing to scroll. “What about rings?” He types a few things on the keyboard. “You’ve got that black one you always wear.”

“Hm?” Jon’s hand automatically goes to the thin black band on his right middle finger, twisting it absently a few times. “Oh, that’s my ace ring.”

Tim looks at the ring, forehead creased. “Those are a thing?”

“I- I mean… yeah? I guess?” Jon hesitates a moment, then takes the ring off his finger and offers it to Tim. “I got one my last year in uni. It- it’s really just for me, I don’t wear it to, er… communicate that I’m ace to other people, necessarily, though it can serve that purpose, I suppose. I just… I like it.”

Tim takes the ring and turns it over a few times in his hand. “Huh. Is this, um. Is this something that all ace people know about and… and I just missed the memo?”

“I mean, I- I don’t…” Jon trails off. He closes his book and sets it on the floor next to the couch, watching Tim fiddle with the ring. “Wait, you- you’re ace? I… I didn’t know that.”

“It’s- well, it’s not a new development,” Tim says with a small laugh, “but I never really had the word until I met you? I never minded sex, and I just thought it was normal that I never really wanted it with any particular person. I honestly thought that whole ‘look across the room and see somebody you want to take to bed’ trope was a thing that just happened in movies. Hearing you talk about being ace, even though you’re a different, uh… subtype? Than me? I don’t know, it- it made a lot of sense to me. I still had a bit of doubt, you know, since I do still like sex, but then you said that some people are sex-favorable, and… yep. Pretty sure that’s me. I did a bit of research of my own just to make sure, but I, uh, I never saw anything about ace rings, I guess.”

“Oh.” Jon watches Tim pass the ring from finger to finger, flipping it back and forth between his thumb and middle finger on his right hand. “I, er… thank you, I- I suppose. For telling me, that is.”

Tim hums. “Would have told you earlier, it just… never really came up, I suppose. Always meant to, though. You’re my best friend, and it’s not like I was afraid you’d react poorly or anything.” He flashes Jon a toothy-white smile and holds out his hand, the ring sat in the center of his palm. “The ring’s cool, though. I might get one for myself.”

Jon stares at Tim’s outstretched hand, something warm curling in the pit of his stomach. He’s not sure what, exactly, compels him to say, “Why don’t you, um. Why don’t you wear that one? At- at least until you find one that you, um. That you like.”

Tim looks surprised. “Jon, I’m not stealing your ring.”

“It’s not stealing if I give it to you,” Jon says, crossing his arms across his chest. “I want you to take it. For- for now, that is.”

Tim looks at Jon a moment more before laughing, his eyes crinkling near the corners. “Jon,” he says, closing his hand around the ring and reaching for one of Jon’s hands with the other. Jon allows his hand to be guided away from his chest, and Tim flattens his palm against Jon’s. Jon frowns at the way Tim’s hand dwarfs his by a centimeter or two, trying to ignore the way his skin tingles where it’s pressed up against Tim’s. “I really don’t think it’s going to fit.”

“You haven’t even tried it on yet,” Jon counters stubbornly.

Tim holds the hand holding the ring up in defeat, his fingers still curled into a fist around it. “All right, all right,” he says, taking his hand away from Jon’s and uncurling his fingers from around the ring. Jon ignores the way his skin grows colder at the lack of contact and watches Tim slip the black ring onto the middle finger of his right hand. It goes on until the second knuckle where it sticks, and Tim holds his hand up in the air with a smirk. “See? It’s stuck. You’ve got twiggy fingers, Jon.”

“I- I do not!” Jon sputters, ignoring the evidence in front of him that clearly indicates otherwise. “Besides, I think it looks… fine.”

“Fine,” Tim echoes, amused. He slips the ring off his finger and holds it back out toward Jon. “I’m not taking your ring if it doesn’t even fit, Jon. But thanks.”

“That’s not—” Jon cuts off with a frustrated noise. He moves his legs off Tim’s and stands, leaving Tim holding the ring with a small confused furrow between his eyebrows. “Wait here. I- I’ll be back.”

“Okay?” Tim says, and Jon nods once decisively before retreating to his bedroom. He pulls a few boxes out from his closet and rifles through them, his heartbeat nestling high in his throat and his face growing steadily warmer. This is stupid, he thinks, even as he finds what he's looking for and grips it tightly in one hand, feeling the soft give of it beneath his fingers. Tim’s going to think it’s stupid.

Taking a deep breath, Jon stands and makes his way back to the living room where Tim’s still sat, worrying the ring back and forth between his fingers and watching Jon with a fond, mildly confused smile as Jon sits back on the couch beside him.

Jon sets the ball of black yarn and pair of scissors on his lap, looks at Tim, and says as confidently as he can muster, “Hold out your hand.”

Tim raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“Don’t laugh at me,” Jon says sharply, his cheeks burning as he looks at Tim expectantly. “Just- just hold out your hand.”

“I’m not laughing,” Tim says softly as he passes Jon’s ring to his left hand and holds out his right, fingers splayed wide and waiting. “Promise.”

If anything, Jon’s face gets hotter at that. He clips a short length of yarn from the ball on his lap, sets the scissors down, and says, “I- I know.” He hesitates, just a moment, before wrapping the bit of yarn around the base of Tim’s middle finger and tying a crisp double knot, cutting off the ends so they’re short and uniform. He pulls his hands back from Tim’s and settles them nervously on his lap, one hand going absently to the ball of yarn and tugging at a few of the loose strands. “Just, um. U- until you can get a real ring.”

Tim looks at him, expression unreadable, and Jon looks away, embarrassment curling hotly in his stomach. “S- sorry,” he says, worrying the hem of his shirt between his fingers. “It- it was a stupid idea.” He takes the scissors in hand and holds them out toward Tim, still staring intently at his lap. “You- you can cut it off if you want.”

Tim’s fingers brush against Jon’s as he pushes the scissors gently back toward Jon. “I haven’t even said anything yet,” he says, the amusement in his voice mixed with something else that Jon can’t quite place. (Not that he’s ever been great at parsing tone in general.) “What makes you think I don’t like it?”

Jon opens and closes his mouth a few times before making an I-don’t-know noise.

“Well, I do,” Tim says matter-of-factly. “In fact, I’m never taking it off, I’ve decided. I’m taking it with me to the grave. Till-death-do-us-part.”

Jon makes a series of sputtering noises before finally landing on, “Well, I, er. I- I’m glad.”

Tim grins at him and then takes Jon’s hand in his own and slips Jon’s ring back onto his finger. Jon’s mind goes blank of all thoughts other than Tim’s hand is touching mine and Tim is very warm and Tim just put a ring on my finger.

“See?” Tim says, squeezing Jon’s hand in his for just a moment before slipping his hand down to Jon’s wrist and holding Jon’s hand up for display. “Twiggy fingers.”

Jon cuts off his thought of Tim is sitting just close enough to kiss with a scowl and wriggles his hand out of Tim’s grip, ignoring the way that Tim’s grin only widens as he does so. “They are perfectly normal-sized fingers for a man of my stature, I’ll have you know.”

“Mm, yes, I suppose you’re right,” Tim says with a put-upon sigh. “I conceded! The rest of you is twiggy as well.”

“Tim.”

“Absolutely no meat on your bones, Jonathan. Positively scrawny.”

Jon crosses his arms across his chest and frowns. He certainly doesn’t pout, and anybody who says anything different is lying. “Timothy Stoker.”

Tim laughs, his expression softening as he reaches over and takes one of Jon’s hands in his own, squeezing gently. “Oh, full-name basis. I must be in trouble.” He turns Jon’s hand over in his and looks at Jon’s ring, rubbing a thumb over it in consideration. Jon definitely doesn’t blush when he does so. “Really, though. Thanks. It… it means a lot.”

Jon looks down at their joined hands, something fluttering and light curling within his stomach. “It- it’s just yarn,” he says quietly, brushing against the knot of yarn with the tip of his finger.

Tim shrugs. “Yeah, but that’s not the point. The point is that you gave it to me, and you listened, and you cared.”

“Oh,” Jon says softly. He swallows around the lump in his throat before offering Tim a small smile that he hopes doesn’t betray the overwhelming affection blooming deep within him. “Well, you- you’re welcome, I suppose.”

Tim hums. He looks down at their hands, flexes his fingers, and says cheerily, “The yarn is nice too, though. Very soft. Definitely has some friendship-bracelet vibes.”

“Ha ha,” Jon says dryly. He leans across Tim’s lap and retrieves the computer, resolutely not thinking about the heat he can feel radiating off Tim with the proximity. Christ, he’s practically a furnace. “You said it’s buy one get one free? I’m sure you can find something.”

Tim orders a ring in the end, a thick black tungsten band, and he tacks a pair of ostentatious cat earrings onto the order despite Jon’s protests that I’m absolutely never going to wear those, Tim and yes, I like cats, but not dangling from my ears and fine, but I’m wearing them once and that’s it. And when Tim arrives at work two weeks later with the ring on his finger, the thin piece of yarn still tied alongside it as he holds his hand up proudly for Jon to see, Jon’s heart skips a beat before picking back up double time.

Oh, Jon thinks as Tim prattles on about shipping times and little silver cats with green gemstone eyes and heart-shaped ace pins, pressing one of the aforementioned pins into Jon’s hand with a grin. Oh.

Jon holds the small metal heart in his hand and looks at the yarn on Tim’s finger and knows, with absolute certainty, that he’s falling in love with Timothy Stoker. His face gets hot and he focuses on Tim’s hands, trying not to give away the fact that his heart is practically beating out of his chest like a cartoon character.

“Jon?” Tim says, placing a hand on one of Jon’s and startling him free from his thoughts. His hand is warm, Jon thinks. I’d love to hold it. “Everything good?”

“Yes,” Jon says quickly, his eyes snapping up to Tim’s face. Tim is smiling at him warmly, and Jon feels a part of himself melt. “Yes,” he repeats, his mouth curling into a small smile to match. “Everything’s great.”

“Great,” Tim echoes, squeezing Jon’s hand once before letting go. His smile turns a bit teasing at the edges, and Jon braces himself. “Now.” He pulls the earrings out of his pocket and dangles them in front of Jon. “As I recall, you did promise at least once.”

Jon is, unfortunately, falling in love with Timothy Stoker. God help him.

“Fine,” Jon grumbles, taking the earrings out of Tim’s hand and giving him a withering look. “Just once.”

Jon does, in fact, end up wearing the earrings more than once, fiddling absentmindedly with the small cats as he walks through the supermarket and stands on the tube and sits on his couch, flipping through a book. But that’s nobody’s business but his own.

[tj-crochets]

I ask this genuinely: how do you manage to create so much? I really admire how much you make things, and enjoy your hobbies so much. I'm trying to figure out how to feel motivated to do projects again

This got extremely ramble-y, so it's below a read more

A lot of it is honestly luck? I have a stay-at-home job that has a fair amount of down time* where I have to be sitting at my computer in case someone emails me/messages me/calls me but can make things while waiting for emails, and it pays enough I can afford to live and buy craft supplies. I've also had a bunch of people, including relatives, neighbors, friends' relatives, and strangers destash and give me a lot of craft supplies for free. Part of it is that I get...idk how to word it. Antsy and listless when I haven't made things in a while? Making things is enrichment for me, and I know that, so I make a point to not go more than a few days without making something. Sometimes I don't want to make things, but I know I'll feel better if I finish a project**, so I'll crochet a little monster or make a tiny witch hat or something, and usually once I start making something I feel better and want to keep making things. Part of it is that I let myself make things on a whim. I've accumulated enough colors of minky, yarn, and embroidery floss*** that I can pretty much make any small thing I think of immediately after I think of it. This isn't universally applicable advice; I have the storage space to (mostly) store it neatly, and I know myself well enough to know I will absolutely lose enthusiasm for a project if I have to wait too long to start it. If I'm making a quilt but have a strong urge to make a tiny monster, I will take a break from the quilt to make a monster (I sometimes struggle with finishing big projects because of this, but it's a work in progress, and I always finish the project eventually). I also love craft supplies as decor. I let myself switch between hobbies as I have the urge to, and trust that I will eventually go back to previous hobbies. I used to guilt myself about changing hobbies, but now I embrace it. Learning new things is good for me! I just spent like three months quilting, like two weeks making doll clothes and a doll to fit them, and now two and a half days embroidering. I'm thinking about making a teddy bear sized tricorn hat. A few weeks ago I made a chain mail/scale mail bracelet, and before then I think it had been like five years since I made anything with chain mail. Sometimes I do get caught up in guilt about crafts. Like, guilt that I promised to make someone something and haven't yet, or that I spent money on supplies but haven't used them, or that someone bought me supplies and I haven't used them. It can absolutely drain all my crafting motivation. When that happens, I try to take a step back, and find what is stopping me/causing me guilt. Is a gift late? That's okay, my friends and family understand crafting takes time and won't be upset. Did I spend money on supplies and not use them yet? That's okay, picking them out brought me joy and inspiration and I will use them in the future. Someone bought me supplies and I haven't used them? How awesome that they thought of me! Someday I'll make something cool with that stuff, and it's great to have another metaphorical crayon in my crayon box to open up more possibilities of things to make. Sometimes I also get hung up on patterns, where part of it is just utterly unenjoyable to me and I can't bring myself to start making the thing. When that happens, I try to figure out what bugs me about it. Is it too complex a pattern? Okay, I'll pick a simpler one. Do I hate hand sewing applique? Okay, I'll look up machine applique, or use a different fabric that doesn't need applique, or pick a different pattern. I think I might've gotten a little off topic? Part of it is also that I struggle to focus on watching shows or even sometimes reading if I am not also making something.

*I mean, it varies day to day, but a lot more downtime than my first job

**there's some neurochemical thing about finishing a project, especially when the finished project creates a tangible object? ***I used to make friendship bracelets

[stark-tony]

underrated irondad and spiderson fic recs part 1

Men's Synch 3m Platform by loudestfandomsoftheworld

summary: or 5 times Peter Parker goes dumpster diving, and one time he does something else... " “You took my nephew dumpster diving?” Ben asked incredulously.

 His wife stood tall with a toddler strapped to her chest, tugging at one end of a couch with all her might. “I did not,” 

“Twash!” Peter yelled."

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

do you even remember what the world looks like? by iron_spider

summary: Tony’s heart has been working on overdrive since this whole thing started. Friday has a countdown clock plastered on the heads up display, but it feels like hieroglyphics to him at this point, like some ancient language he could never master.

Because when Peter Parker is missing, things start losing their meaning real quick.

“Should be around here,” Rhodey says on the com. May is still on the other line, listening in, because once a certain amount of time goes by without word from Peter, things move into Extremely Worried Aunt territory. They’re already in Tony Is Panicking territory, and when both of those territories overlap it’s never a good time for anybody.

Time? What the hell is time? His mind is blanking numbers out entirely. Minutes are seconds are hours are years.

pairings: none

tags: hurt/comfort

warnings: none

Empty Casket by Jen27ny

summary: After the Vulture, Tony should have known better.

He should have listened to Peter.

But he didn’t.

And now, Peter is dead.

pairings: none

tags: angst

warnings: none

Patient #2252 by TheSoulOfAStrawberry

summary:  When a warehouse comes down on Spider-Man’s head and leaves him with a brain injury, Queens social worker Bianca Browne and Dr Grace Li of NY-Presbytarian Hospital find themselves racing the NYPD to uncover Spidey’s identity and get him help before he can be charged with a litany of crimes.

pairings: none

tags: hurt/comfort

warnings: police brutality

That's why they call me mr. fahrenheit by SparrowFlight246

summary: Peter’s on fire.

He wakes up fast, and before he even gets the chance to feel the pain, the aches, the dizziness, he feels the heat. It’s all encompassing, a raging inferno blooming from within him and burning him up from the inside out, and god, it—

—god, it hurts.

-

Peter gets whammied by a 24-hour superbug, and Tony’s left to keep him alive until tomorrow morning.

It sounds a hell of a lot easier than it ends up being.

pairings: none

tags: angst, hurt/comfort

warnings: none

not like megatron by iron_spider

summary: “Hi! This is Peter Parker, I can’t get to the phone right now, so leave a message and I’ll call you back later! Hopefully not too much later, but don’t get your hopes up!”

Tony knows that message by heart. He’s heard it hundreds of times, in a greyer world, and it sends shivers down his spine as he climbs into the car.

He doesn’t think about that place. That half-world. No way, that’s done, that’s over, that’s history.“Hey, kid, don’t you know it’s bad etiquette to go and disappear on your birthday? Not allowed, really, really bad vibes from the universe. What’s going on with your suit? I wasn’t watching. Nope. Just got an alert. What’s going on? Uh, call me back.” He clears his throat and hangs up like a moron, driving out into the street.

pairings: none

tags: hurt/comfort, fluff

warnings: none

Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater by frostysunflowers

summary:  ''Dying.''

''You’re not dying.''

''Totally am.'

'''God, I hope not, otherwise May will skin me alive.''

or

A weekend visit to the cabin doesn't go according to plan.

pairings: none

tags: hurt/comfort, humor

warnings: none

an irondad's misguided approach to homesickness by livingtheobsessedlife

summary: Peter mentions it once. Once. That he’s maybe kinda sorta vaguely somewhat homesick. MIT is no Queens, that’s all really. All in all, Pete’s having a great time at college. Really, truly.

The thing is that Tony’s never really taken the whole ‘only mentioning it once’ thing all that well. Not when it comes to Peter at least.

This time is no exception.

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

you held your pride like you should have held me by searchingforstars

summary: “I had to take the risk!” Peter snaps. “I saved your life.”

Tony’s stare hardens. “Yeah, and nearly ended your goddamn own. This isn’t a trade-off. It wasn’t your call to make.”

“You would have done the same thing to protect me,” Peter points out. Tony just seethes at the statement.

“I don’t care about what you think I would have done. You are not me. And I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself."

--

or, as the timer ticked down, Peter knew his only option was to take things into his own hands. He just didn’t expect Tony to be mad at him for saving his life.

pairings: none

tags: angst, hurt/comfort

warnings: none

always on duty by parkrstark

summary:  Peter manages to convince Tony to take him to a gala, but when Tony is hurt, he realizes that it's just as dangerous to be Tony Stark as it is to be Iron Man. 

pairings: none

tags: hurt/comfort, fluff, humor

warnings: none

Out of Left Field by blondsak, seekrest

summary: Even if Tony didn’t end up becoming a big fan of the Mets, Peter knew they’d still have a great time at the game. And the fact that Tony wanted to go with Peter badly enough to make it clear that he should buy a pair of tickets as a birthday gift?

Peter shakes his head fondly.

Maybe for once the month of May was going to work out for him after all.

pairings: spideychelle

tags: fluff, humor

warnings: none

three weeks, two days, seven hours by crowkag

summary: It was a mess. A real mess. Peter had been gone for three weeks, two days, and seven hours, taken right out from under their noses.

And Tony was laying on the floor.

(AKA “you’ll always get there first”, but from Tony’s POV.)

pairings: none

tags: hurt/comfort, fluff

warnings: 

for as long as i live and as long as i love (i will never not think about you) by searchingforstars

summary: When Tony first started to forget things, Peter thought maybe it was just age. People’s memories fade as they get older, right? Minds get weaker. It’s just natural.

But Tony has arguably the sharpest mind of the 21st century. Peter should have realised that it was never going to be just getting weaker. It was never going to be just age.

No - not when the sharpest mind of the 21st century also happened to come into contact with the deadliest amount of gamma radiation known to man five years ago.

--

or, Tony’s sacrifice is still haunting them five years later. Peter has to come to terms with the fact that Tony’s memory is fading.

pairings: none

tags: angst

warnings: none

a dream is a wish by floweryfran

summary: Tony seems to panic for a moment, shifting his weight foot to foot, before spitting out in one mouthful, “I have a business trip in Florida right before your spring break and I talked to May and she says I can bring you to Disney for the week once it’s done ahhh.” He then breathes, grins plastically, and holds his hands out, like, I’m Tony Stark, hold your applause.

Peter runs the words through his head no less than three times to make sure he had understood them properly. “Disney—you and me—spring break?” he repeats.

Tony nods, hair flopping. “I mean, like, don’t feel obligated to say yes, but I thought it would be fun since May says you’ve never gone and she would’ve been working for your whole break anyway, y’know, at least this way we won’t be worrying about you sitting home alone for hours doing G-d only knows what—building accidental robot armies or something, or, worse, becoming a couch potato and forgetting every bit of knowledge I’ve ever carefully placed in that rat trap you call a brain—”

“Tony,” Peter says, waving his hands to shut Tony up. Something warm sits in the core of his chest, hovering. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, yeah, for sure, let’s—Disney. Let’s go. Wow.”

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

Of birthday cake and millennium falcons by frostysunflowers

summary: "You still haven’t answered my question," MJ says, taking another sip of her juice.

 "Isn’t it obvious?" Tony replies, scratching at one of the scars on his neck with the end of a screwdriver. "It’s Ben’s birthday."

"And Ben’s birthday warrants a…" MJ waves a hand vaguely, "what the hell is that thing anyway?"

or

Tony has no self control when it comes to birthday parties and his grandson.

pairings: spideychelle

tags: fluff

warnings: none

what i have, i give to you by aatticsaltt

summary:  Tony would give everything to Peter Parker, if he asked for it. When May calls telling Tony she thinks Peter isn't feeling well, he drops everything to go check up on his favorite spider kid.

pairings: pepperony

tags: fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: none

Smile! by aatticsaltt

summary:  Taking Peter to Disney World was one of Tony's better ideas.

pairings: pepperony

tags: fluff

warnings: none

and when it's hard, i'll place your head into my hands by hopeless_hope

summary: “Tony,” Pepper sing-songs to get his attention. “Your mother hen is showing.”

“What?” he snaps indignantly. “I am not a mother hen. This is just... concern. Of the average kind. Perfectly normal.”

“Of course,” Pepper humors him, and he shoots her a dirty look as he types out a quick text to Peter.

or

It's been five days since Tony's heard from Peter, who's away at college, and Tony is not coping well. (Neither is Peter.)

pairings: none

tags: hurt/comfort, fluff

warnings: none

Of Wally-Crawly Harnesses and Over-Enthusiastic Hat-Bestowing Capabilities by TheOceanIsMyInkwell

summary: Tony raises a brow at him in triumph, then sniffs and rubs the side of his nose. “Besides, think of it this way. Now you got a bullet-proof neck.”

“Nobody would even shoot a sad-looking orphan bundled like a spring roll in Red Heart yarn,” Peter points out. “That’s just low.”

“Excuse me, young buck, I resent the implication that I would let Red Heart come within an inch of your skin.”

“You’re insufferable,” Peter says flatly. “I hate you.”

“And just for that, I think this calls for those wool socks I was working on,” Tony says brightly.

“No--no, wait--”

“It’s time to learn that your consequences have actions, Parker--”

“Wait, wait, I love your knitting, I think it’s super healthy and fulfilling and honestly the best thing that’s ever happened to you since you retired!” Peter hollers at the man’s figure as it retreats quickly down the hallway. -- After Peter faints into hibernation because he can't thermoregulate, Tony isn't taking anymore chances. Out come the wool skeins and the knitting needles.

pairings: none

tags: fluff, humor

warnings: none

how do you sandwich!? by killerqueenwrites

summary: “Why are you buttering toast before you toast it?

”“I’m not toasting this.”

“Then what are you doing?” Peter demands.

“I’m making a sandwich.”

pairings: none

tags: fluff, humor

warnings: none

What I Can't Live Without by aatticsaltt

summary: Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown. Heavy lies the heart of the father who has to watch his son bow beneath the weight of the world.

or: When Peter calls Happy needing a ride out of the Netherlands, it's Tony who comes to the rescue.

pairings: none

tags: angst

warnings: none

Tales from Quarantine by just_a_hungry_author

summary: Peter, Morgan, and Tony are all stuck inside during the Coronavirus quarantine. Morgan learns to play Monopoly, Tony struggles to help with 1st grade math, and a prank war ensues.

God, this is the longest two weeks ever.

pairings: none

tags: fluff, humor

warnings: none

if we have each other by ftmpeter

summary: "Do you ever just, like, feel like you’re upside down?"

"You are upside down, Pete."

"Sounds fake."

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

What Happens in the Blanket Fort Stays in the Blanket Fort by TheOceanIsMyInkwell

summary: “Well, I was gonna discuss with May some legal particulars about changes to my will that involve you,” Tony drawls, “but looks like I’ll just have to change my plans.”

There’s a beat. And then a yodel: “I’m just a poor boy, I need--”

“If not for this goddamn quarantine, I’d be there in a flash to shut you up myself, Spidey-Tighties.”

“You made these ‘tights’.”

“Funsie-onesie.”

“Mr. Stark.”

“Cooty-footies.”

“Mr. Stark. I’m begging you. What does that even mean.” -- Tony comes over to keep Peter company during the quarantine while the kid waits for May to come home from work at the hospital. Bants are had. Feelings are spilled. And maybe, just maybe, a hug or two is shared.

pairings: none

tags: fluff, humor

warnings: none

On his Shoulders by snarkymuch

summary: “Please, please,” Tony begged, “Keep breathing, kid. Don’t do this to me. You can’t leave me like this.” The morning started like any other for Tony. He kissed Pepper good morning and sipped his coffee. He scanned his emails and chatted with Pepper about the vacation they were always planning but never took. The calm should have been a warning, as the storm always followed.

OR

Peter and Tony get trapped in a building collapse and Peter is gravely injured.

pairings: none

tags: hurt/comfort

warnings: none

coronapocalypse by peterstank

summary:  “This whole quarantine thing shouldn’t even apply to me.”

“Uh, I beg to differ, it’s very serious,” replies Tony’s voice, slightly muffled like he’s got his phone pressed between his shoulder and chin. “We’re all on lockdown, which means no leaving your place unless it’s for emergencies.”

“And what qualifies as an emergency?”

There’s a pause.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re not in your apartment?”

pairings: none

tags: fluff, humor

warnings: none

Little White Lies by snarkymuch

summary:  Peter gets injured and tries to treat it himself, hiding it from Tony, but he can't keep it hidden forever.

pairings: none

tags: hurt/comfort

warnings: none

Peter Parker and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Semester by just_a_hungry_author

summary: "So tell me, Kid." Tony said, patting the space next to him. "What's been going on?"

"Nothing's been going on." Peter denied, but he sat down anyway.

"Pete, don't bottle your emotions up. Only I'm allowed to do that."

When Peter again didn't smile at his joke, Tony continued. "I know you're stressed, Bud. But tell me why so I can help you."

"It's nothing you can help." Peter mumbled.

"Can I at least try?"

"I've just been having a bad week."

OR: Peter’s been having a rough time at college, Tony tries to jump in and help. 3000 words of pure fluff.

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

Windy Webs by silentsaebyeok

summary:  And that was it. He was officially an idiot. Peter didn’t mean to be dramatic, but this was one of the most embarrassing things to ever happen to him, even if there was no one around to witness the fall of the century. -- Peter goes web-slinging in dangerous weather and gets seriously injured. It doesn't help that he has to spend the whole summer living with the consequences.

pairings: none

tags: hurt/comfort

warnings: none

Peter gets the chickenpox by snarkymuch

summary:  Peter and Morgan both catch the chickenpox. Morgan's case is mild, but Peter's is severe. Tony takes care of them both.

pairings:  none

tags: hurt/comfort, fluff

warnings: none

[thepinkwriterr]

Capricorn Season Chapter Sixteen Part One

Hello! This chapter is written from Robert’s perspective, and we are joining him at Bron-Yr-Aur. There is another Bron-Yr-Aur chapter coming next week, written by @anothercanyonlady ! That chapter will continue with Robert’s POV. Anyway, I ask that you be a bit patient with me as I post these next four-ish chapters. I just started college and it’s been a bit hectic. Not to get too personal... but I’ve had some personal issues. Dating is hard! Unforantly, not everything can be as perfect as Jimmy and Gwen. Sigh... Anyway, enjoy!

Word Count: 7.3k 

"Why so blue?" I asked, standing in the doorway of the cottage. I had just been outside for a smoke, enjoying the morning air. Everything was so different up here in the mountains. It seemed more than just an altitude change. Something in the atmosphere was altered in this place.

I felt healed here, I always had. When we came up here as a kid it invariably signaled a change within me. I wondered for a short time before making the trip what would change during our time on holiday, but now I didn't have to, the answer was clear in front of me. Jimmy had changed, our relationship was morphing.

He often told me I should listen more and talk less. At the times of him saying that I thought it was just a dig, a comment Pagey made because he wanted you to stop talking, the sly notions he always made. I felt like I'd heard them all in the two years we'd known each other, and that seemed like one of them. But now I was changing my tune because he was right. As much as it irked me, I couldn't deny it.

I had learned a great deal about him in the last three days from simple observation. He liked three sugars in his tea, he always ran the back of his hand or thumbnail against his lip and chin cleft when deep in thought, he didn't like when dogs jumped on him, and he preferred the feeling of fleece rather than cotton. I didn't think he would be fond of me watching him so closely, he would be disgruntled by the intimacy. He was a very private person.

His head whipped up to see me, standing in the doorway. He was bent over the guitar that sat on the floor in front of him, a notebook on his lap. He shrugged. I walked over to the couch and sat down, pulling the afghan over me. It was made with care, most likely by someone's grandmother. It was monochrome green with three sections of gradient yarn. Even with the fire going I had to warm myself. I was surprised Jimmy wasn't shivering, although he sat next to the flames and absorbed their heat.

"I think I know what the matter is." I gave a knowing smile. He huffed, then looked down at his notebook again. I couldn't tell what was written but it filled half the page. "You're missing your lassy, aren't you?"

When he looked at me again I could see something had shifted in his eyes. They were softer now, almost delicate. They were watery at the edges. His face was round and cherubic, even with the stubble that was showing through. He didn't say anything.

I sighed, "it's okay, you don't have to answer me. I can tell I'm right."

His expression twisted up, his features now terse and irritated. "What makes you think that?"

"What else is there to moan about? You're rich, successful, and on holiday. The only problems you've got are which pairs of leather patent loafers to buy and the girl who won't take you seriously."

"And what makes you think she won't take me seriously?" His tone was shifting, sounding more irritated with every syllable that came off his tongue. His lilt had turned into a battering swarm of angry bees.

"She would be here if she did."

His brow mashed together, angling upwards with discomfort. His lips morphed into a grimace. Without another word he stood from his chair and went to the front door. It opened and slammed shut before I could protest.

Maureen stood in the hall, frozen. She looked concerned. When the house stopped shaking from the impact of the door, she spoke. "What the hell did you say?" She was flagrant with me too.

I shrugged. "All I said was everything he already knew."

-

As we drifted into deep tracks of farm equipment-created mud tracks, I knew we would be at the cottage soon. I turned around in my seat, looking briefly over my shoulder to see Carmen asleep. Her head was lulled to the side and her tiny cheek was dimpled as it lay on her shoulder. Strider was sitting next to her in the seat, watchful and honorary as ever.

We finally made it. The small cottage I was so fond of came into my sight, just as wonderful as ever. The feeling I got as a boy returned, the light of The Gods shining over the pile of bricks as we pulled up. I could remember the drive feeling like it took forever, hours, and relished in the elation that ran through my body as I moved my legs once more. It always hurt me to be still, more so now than it did then.

I was more patient now and a lot taller. The building wasn't as grand and towering as I had once remembered, but that did not mean it was any less exciting. I smiled as I looked at the beautiful painting before me.

The cottage was on a hillside and rested atop the lush grass like God himself had put it there. It was made of brown brick with a red front door. A chimney of the same brick billowed with smoke. Jimmy must already be here, lighting the fireplace to warm the building.

I opened the car door, hooking the lead to Strider's collar before I allowed him to spill out of the vehicle. He was bounding up to the house, barking and begging to run around. I giggled but pulled him back in, then sunk to my knees and patted him on the head. "After we get settled in, then you can explore. But, for now, you have to be a good dog." He barked in response.

"Yeah, so Jimmy doesn't throw you in the creek," Maureen grumbled as she walked past us.

My face spoiled, my smile turning to a frown, "He wouldn't do that!" I caught up to her. Carmen rested on her hip. She was smiling and looking around, now fully awake and alert.

"Daddy, tree!" She pointed a chubby finger into the air.

"Yes, that is a tree! Good job. Do you know what kind it is?"

"Tree."

I smiled at her insistence. "That's an Aspen. Can you say Aspen?"

"Aaaaasphen." A slew of spit and soggy cheerios flew from her mouth. I was happy they didn't land on me.

"Close enough!" I clapped. Maureen was laughing, which sent Carmen into bumpy bouts of giggles herself.

We made for the front door but I stopped before entering. I looked around the countryside. It was bucolic. The expansive nature around the isolated cabin would make a wonderful place to write songs. I sucked in a breath as I looked around, a tear almost ringing in my ducts. With one last wistful gaze, I turned the knob and allowed Maureen and Carmen to go in.

Strider rushed in, dragging me along before I could agree, and we were greeted by Jimmy. He was crouched in front of the fireplace. He was poking at the logs and bursts of bright orange embers were popping.

"You already started a fire?"

"Yeah, it was freezing in here! I thought I was gonna spend the next few weeks trapped in the arctic. Thankfully, it warmed fairly swift."

"Yeah, well there's no heat or any other electricity. Get used to not having your usual amenities." Maureen said as she looked around. She wasn't too thrilled about being here, even less about Jimmy's presence. When I first told her we were going away to Wales she was excited. With every bit I told her afterward, her glee diminished.

She wasn't the biggest fan of Jimmy. She thought he was uptight and stuffy, but I could tell her opinion of him was softening. This change came when she met Gwen, which started a shift in the way we all saw him.

"Oh, yes, I can tell that much. I saw the outside toilet."

"Outside toilet? Robert, you didn't tell me about this!" Maureen slapped my chest with the back of her hand.

Jimmy folded his lips together to stop his laughter, then turned away from us. "I'm sorry. I guess I forgot." I shrugged. She just frowned and shook her head. She shot me a terrible glare, a most ghastly sight. She could shoot daggers at me in seconds, casting spells with just her giant eyes. They were gorgeous when I was in her graces and terrifying when I was not.

"You could always share nappies with Carmen." I shrugged. She sat Carmen down and started slapping me, giggling all the while. I turned and grabbed my jacket off the arm of the couch to defend myself, which was no use. She took it from my hands and used it to beat me. "Ah, bested by my own sword!"

I fell dramatically to my knees and Strider came over to me. He started licking my face until I dissolved into a fit of laughter. Jimmy looked at this display with horror and a tinge of laughter. He didn't want to show his delight, but I caught it.

"There also isn't any hot water," Jimmy said, adding fuel to the fire.

-

We sat for tea as we listened to the fire crackling. I had a smile on my face because I was enchanted by the nostalgia of this place. I shared so many great memories here and I was going to make more.

"How was the drive up here?" Jimmy turned to us and tried to make conversation. It wasn't like him to be so friendly.

"It was alright," I shrugged. Strider lay on the rug at my feet. I could feel his inhale and snorting exhale. His leg shook gently as he dreamed. I wondered what he was imagining, perhaps lovely, well-groomed bitches or t-bone steaks. Don't we all, sport...

"I was the one who drove. You sat there like a princess."

"Okay, okay, no need to bring out the pet names!"

She again grimaced and rolled her eyes. I could feel the earth being thrown off its axis by the force of her action. "How was the train ride?" She asked. See, she was warming up to him!

"Not too bad. I liked the seat I chose. Next to the window." Whenever he spoke I could tell he was choosing his words carefully. He tiptoed around his mind, diligently plucking up the information that would reveal the least about himself.

"Did you enjoy the scenery? I love going to Wales. That's why I sat in the passenger seat."

He took a sip from his cup. "Oh, yeah, it was lovely."

He always made things so awkward. I couldn't understand why he hid away. It was like turning the key on a music box, you had to work so hard to get him to sing. Speaking of which, we should get the music train rolling! I already had a million tunes in my head. Lyrics rattled around in my brain like a broken typewriter.

I toyed with my hair as we made polite conversation. It was like hanging out with my mother. He was a 70-year-old man trapped in a 26-year-old's body! I was surprised he hadn't asked if I wanted a biscuit or some candy.

As my fingers worked through my hair I decided I needed to brush out my curls. They were getting unruly. I went to my suitcase and searched through it but couldn't find it. I dug through the clothes five or six times before running out to the living room.

"My hairbrush! I can't find it!"

Maureen quelled a laugh and asked me where I last had it. "In the car, I think. No, I had it in my hand when we came in! Oh, it's lost." I threw myself onto the couch, my head in my hands.

Strider was awoken now and on high alert. He circled around the couch as I pondered sobbing.

"Robert, it'll be okay. Just go look in the car and outside."

So I did just that. I searched and searched but I didn't find it. It wasn't in the car, I even ripped up the mats on the car floor, and it wasn't outside. I burst into the house, exclaiming that it was lost and I would never find it. I was hunched over and sweaty. I needed to find my brush.

"Well, look around in here. Maybe you dropped it," Maureen suggested. So I did. And I didn't find it. I was becoming desperate.

"One of you must've stolen it." I was borderline seething now. I felt crazed searching endlessly.

"Stolen it? That's preposterous." Jimmy laughed.

"Really? I think you did it," I leaned in close to his face, "you could use a brush yourself, mate."

"I didn't steal your brush, you psychopath." He cowered away from me in discomfort.

"Maybe it was you!" I pointed dramatically to Maureen.

"Me? I brought my own!"

"Hmm... maybe Carmen."

"The baby? Okay, now you've officially lost it." Maureen said, her voice falling flat and drab. The perfect cover for someone who stole my brush...

"Yes, I have! I've lost my most dear possession." I threw myself into her lap and sighed. How was I ever going to get through this trip without my brush? without a shower and a brush, my hair would get matted and disgusting. It would take days to get all the knots out when we returned!

-

I tried my best to have a good evening but I couldn't. I was miserable because I was lacking a vital part of my process. My hair would become flat and frizzy without that brush!

Maureen huffed as she padded out of our bedroom. She put Carmen down for the night and changed into a more comfortable set of clothes. She wore one of my old t-shirts, a white graphic tee with coffee stains, and baggy pajama pants. Even in that, she looked absolutely beautiful...

She nudged me to move over when she reached the couch. I was laid out, my legs spread over the armrest. It wasn't large enough for a good nap. That would certainly be an issue.

I moved over and allowed her to crash down next to me. My eyes drifted over to Jimmy and I could tell he was uncomfortable again. Did intimacy set him off? I decided to test the waters.

My arm weaved through her hair, unraveling the knots and massaging away any tension built up on her scalp. He pushed his brows together and looked at the fire, pretending to be interested in the scorching of wood. I simpered. Checkmate.

It felt good to play games with him, as he seemed to always be playing them with me. I was justified but knowingly crazy.

"How is Gwen?" Maureen asked, moving her head to rest on my shoulder.

He turned back to us, spotting her migration, and flicked his eyes back to me, "she's... alright. Hates her job, but who doesn't?" He laughed.

"I don't."

"Of course not us. We have the best job in the world. What could be better than making music?"

"Why didn't she come?" She pressed further. She had a habit of doing this, digging where she didn't belong. Sometimes I had to silently beg her to put the shovel down. This wasn't one of those times, I wanted to hear his answer. Would he be truthful, or would he lather a layer of crystalized honey in the way only Pagey could?

He sat silently, eyes shifting around and lips pursing. I thought he might implode for a moment. He was mulling the answer over in his head. "She has a job to do, couldn't take time off work."

He didn't even look like he believed himself.

"Oh, that's too bad. I don't know if it's too soon or just wishful thinking, but I have a good feeling about her. We've talked," she waved her hand in between us, "and we really like her."

His face lit up at her words, only for a moment. His smile fell from his face at once and he nodded, then looked down at his lap. I noted that he was wearing women's jeans. I could tell by the floral embroidery at the bottom. I assumed they were Gwen's.

"Yeah, I do too."

A door opened just then. Her words cracked something, caused soft, yellow light to pour into the hall, and we peeked inside for just an instant. He closed the door at once, his words the sharp push to end our connection. It was slight, but it was something.

-

We didn't start on music until the next day. It began when I woke up. I was humming a tune, something I had thought up on the drive over. Something about friends, trading smiles. It was in the works. I just thought it up and Jimmy seemed to like it.

I was cooking breakfast, standing at the hot plates, when he came in. Maureen was taking care of Carmen in our room so it was just us in the kitchen. It was tiny and the walls were bare. It was painted yellow and blue.

I was humming when he snuck up on me. He was so thin and light that he glided across the floor, making no sound as he came in.

"That's good, Rob, I like it."

"Oh, fuck, you startled me!" I crossed my hands over my heaving chest, the spatula in my right hand.

"Sorry," he laughed and took a seat at the tiny table. There were three chairs. Carmen would have to sit on my lap while she ate. We didn't have the foresight to bring a highchair. The repercussions of two stoner parents.

I turned my attention back to the pan. The egg sizzled and spat against the non-stick metal, the rheumy side staring up at me as I pushed at the edges with my spatula. "But you liked it?" I asked, my back to him.

"Yeah, it was good. I have a song I've been working on that might suit that tune."

"We'll get to that after breakfast. For now, we eat!" The egg was finished. I slid it onto the plate and cracked another one right away. Next was sausage.

"What are you making?" He stood over my shoulder and looked at the spread, noticeably distant. I had already finished the french toast and was now onto the eggs. I would make the tea last.

"That smells so good!" Maureen said as we walked in. Carmen trailed behind her, teetering along. Her hair was tousled and wild. She ran right to me and latched onto the back of my leg.

"Daddy!" She said and buried her face in my calf. She pressed her cheek against my jeans. I had already dressed for the day. But it was necessary when I lodged with others, as I slept in the nude. I picked her up and let her peer over the hot plate. I had to give her back to Maureen when she opened her mouth and started to drool.

-

Jimmy and I hadn't resolved our fight until two nights afterward. We had smoothed things over, ignored them really, and worked through some songs in the time after, but didn't address the uncomfortable interaction.

Maureen asked me to put Carmen down for the night. I figured she'd had her fair share of dealing with the baby in the time I'd been gone, and followed her wishes. I didn't often do these things. I also refrained from housework and lawn care. Despite my namesake, I didn't have a green thumb. Being an enjoyer of the outdoors does not a gardener make!

When I returned Jimmy was in the living room lying in front of the fire, as usual. He took the armchair that sat next to the fireplace and Maureen and I took the couch, that was the unspoken agreement. He was sitting in the chair when we arrived and it had stuck ever since. He turned his head to look at me and a polite smile graced his features. So awkward... like a pre-teen boy, forever cursed to wander around with his fists clenched in his pockets.

"So, who's ready for some wine?" Maureen asked, saving both of us from the horrible fate that could've befallen us. She sounded tired like she was in need of a nice, long sleep. She worked so hard at taking care of Carmen that I knew she was deserving of it. She'd entered her terrible twos and had an ungodly amount of energy.

While Jimmy and I took two hours to compose an acoustic piece and have a snack break she took Carmen for a long walk. When they returned Carmen was grumpy. Her features were crushed together in anger and she had a lengthy tantrum in the bedroom. Jimmy looked miserable all the while.

Jimmy stood from his chair and went into the kitchen, then grabbed three cups and the bottle of Merlot. Maureen picked it up on our way here last week. I didn't question why we were stopped at the liquor store until I looked up from my copy of The French Lieutenant's Woman. She came back a few minutes later with a large paper bag and a smile.

"I've got refreshments for the trip," she had a crazed look in her eye. She got this when she was being devious.

I looked into the bag and found three bottles of wine and one pint of Ballantine's blended scotch whiskey. I grimaced. I could taste the vomit in my mouth just by looking at it.

"I know what you're thinking already and I know you hate that stuff," she started the car and began pulling out of the lot, "I got it because I like it and I'm sure Jimmy will too. Although he likes a drink as much as a fish, so he won't care."

I giggled at the memory of her words as he sat the bottle on the coffee table. The mugs clunk down onto the table next, three identical thuds in succession. I grabbed a white one and examined the print on it.

A puff of humored air blew from my nostrils. "I'm a dad, so I can eat in front of the T.V. whenever I want." I read it aloud. The two didn't look humored.

"Mine says "World's Greatest Grandpa"." He laughed, holding the mug in his right hand and stroking a long, invisible beard. I chortled but Maureen was busy opening the bottle.

She struggled for almost two minutes while we watched. I found her huffing and cursing amusing but he decided to put her out of her misery.

"Here, let me help." He took the bottle from her hands and jumped up off the chair.

"There isn't a corkscrew, I already checked." She said as he rummaged through the kitchen drawers.

He looked around for a moment, put his hands on his hips, and then seemed to get an idea. He plucked a fork from the top drawer and came back into the living room. We watched him slam the bottle down and jam the end of the fork into the top of the cork. Maureen had managed to scrap away at its edifice but ultimately do nothing.

Her nails were long and painted a lovely plum shade. They felt nice on my back last night as she scratched shapes into my skin, lulling me to sleep. I looked at her hands now, finding them calling for me. I slipped my fingers between hers and she gave them a squeeze. I still swooned at our closeness. I really did love her, despite the cheating and distance. We had been married for more than just pregnancy.

It seemed right when Carmen came along. I couldn't help but be thrilled when Maureen told me she was pregnant. Our parents didn't think it was appropriate for either of us to be so happy, but that didn't change my excitement. We married a short time before her bump became noticeable. There wasn't a real reception.

Now that time had passed and I had matured I realize it was shitty of me to suggest we forego a traditional reception. Even though she said it didn't bother her, I still had a suspension that wasn't entirely accurate. She had always been so selfless, allowing me to put my career first. I know she wasn't always so crazy about my passion.

I hoped she was happier now that we'd achieved landmark success. I could afford to buy her jewelry and a nice big farmhouse. Carmen and her didn't need to want or wish and that was the best feeling a man could have.

"What the hell are you doing?" Maureen questioned, a brow raised.

"Pushing the cork into the bottle. There we go!" He smiled and held the bottle up. The cork was indeed gone.

She scrunched her face and took the bottle from him. She poured a healthy amount into each of our mugs.

When I took a drink I was delighted with the taste. Summer cherries and swiss chocolate swirled in my mouth as I gulped down three drinks. My mouth wasn't dry when the red mirth was gone, either. She knew how to pick her wine!

"Oh, I almost forgot. Jimmy, I got a bottle of scotch if you'd like something else. I know Princess Planty over here likes to stick with wine."

He giggled and thanked her. Well, I'm glad they're getting along at my expense!

"I only drink this because you got the most abominable liquor known to man!"

She rolled her eyes, the room spinning once more, and started to crack a devious smile. I knew what she was about to do and I wanted to kick her for it.

"Have you ever heard the story of the first and last time he drank whiskey?" She asked. Jimmy shook his head, intrigue on his face. "That night... oh boy, I don't think I've ever seen Robert so pissed. He got on the table and started dancing, telling me he was gonna be a stripper and started to pull all his clothes off." She was recounting the night with a smile.

I looked at Jimmy to see that he was giggling in his glass of wine. He was trying to choke down a drink but she began again.

"And right as he got to his knickers he projectile vomited all over the kitchen. Just real nasty, like a firehose. It covered the walls and the table and the floor. I've never seen someone throw up that much." She waved her arms dramatically and mimed vomit coming up from her throat. She was giggling and wheezing as she tried to finish, "I didn't think it was ever gonna stop!"

Jimmy was in shambles, his chest convulsing and his shoulders bouncing. He was bent over like a billfold, hysterically laughing into his knees. I tried to push off my discomfort and play along like I wasn't bothered.

Maureen wiped tears from her eyes with the back of her hand and chortled, "I was cleaning vomit off the kitchen for months. Every once in a while I'd find a crusty bit under the hutch or in the grooves of a chair leg." She looked at me, smiling half in amusement, half in disgust. "You're disgusting. I love you." She sighed.

I grimaced. "Well, that was charming, thank you for sharing." I wanted to scream at her for telling that story. But, I had one of my own to tell the group. That would show her!

"I've got a story of my own." I flashed serpentine eyes at her.

Her expression hardened. "No. No, you wouldn't!"

I nodded with a shit-eating grin. "Oh, but I would!"

"I am going to kill you if you tell him that!"

Jimmy looked enthralled, his brows raised. I turned to him and opened my mouth, but before I could speak Maureen pulled a large chunk of my hair. If it weren't so matted it might have ripped from my head!

"Hey!"

"Stop. It." Maureen said through gritted teeth.

"Awe, c'mon, it's all in good fun. Pagey will even tell us a story, won't ya?"

He looked like a deer in the headlights. His mouth was pulled into an O shape, his rosebud lips pressed together. "Um, yeah, I suppose. I have some good ones... about Gwen."

"Oh, you're gonna throw your girlfriend under the bus, huh?" Maureen snarked, wine sloshing in her glass.

"I have some I could tell about myself if that would make you feel better." Hmm... he was being far kinder than I would expect of him. He must be drunk off the wine already.

"Just sit back and enjoy the story, you know it well. So," I turned back to him and began, sitting my glass on the table as I knew I was going to become quite animated, "we were out to dinner one night, a few years back, to celebrate our first anniversary. This was just a few months after Carmen was born so Mo was still feeling a bit... loose, we'll say. Loose, yeah?"

I asked, turning to look at her. She had an angry grimace on her face. She looked pissed. And I dearly hoped she was. "Yeah."

"Right, loose." I accentuated the word to bring that much more embarrassment. Yes, she may have won the battle, but I was going to take the war. "So, we're out at a Mexican restaurant and we're on round three of peach margaritas. This was the first time she'd been drunk since we found out about the baby. So she's getting even more... loose," I flapped my hands about, "and she's piss drunk by the time we're done with our appetizers. She's wolfing down chips and queso, I mean absolutely going to town!

Anyway, I'm being my usual charming self and making her laugh. I stuck the olive from my drink in my nose, but it got stuck. I'm pulling and trying to snort it out but it's stuck! She's over there next to me wheezing and giggling, making a huge scene. So then the waiter comes up and I just look up at him with this expression of terror, because at this point I'm scared it's never going to come out. I was afraid I was going to become olive-nose and our career was over. But the guy just blows right past it and takes our order.

When he leaves I'm freaking out and trying to get it out. We have tried everything. She even tried to get it out with the toothpick. So I'm just blowing harder than a French whore and finally, it pops out! It flies across the table, mid-air, mind you, and hits the waiter on the back of the head!"

Jimmy has once more fallen into pieces. He was laughing so hard he spilled wine on his jeans. Well, Gwen's jeans. I couldn't wait to tell him that it wasn't over.

"Hold on, it gets better! So obviously we're crackin' up! I mean, it's inappropriate how hard we were laughing. It was a good thing we left because they probably woulda' kicked us out had we kept going on that way. But, anyway, Maureen suddenly stops laughing. She's slapping my arm and telling me to shut up. She sounds really serious so I do, and look at her, y'know, and I can't understand what she's saying. She's flapping her arms like a bird and almost in tears. So I look down," I looked to Maureen. She is not happy with me. Her face was buried in her hands. I pressed on, "and I realize she's wee'd herself!"

Jimmy sputtered, spit and wine flew from his mouth. He started to slap his leg and rock back and forth. I'd never seen him laugh so hard. I did feel bad that it was at Mo's expense, but she deserved it. She was asking for it!

I was a bit worried Carmen was going to be awakened from how hard we were laughing. I think Maureen even got a few chuckles in. I hoped she knew it was all in good fun, but that woman did know how to hold a grudge.

"Okay, okay, I think it's time for Jimmy to share," Maureen said, hiding behind her nearly empty glass.

"Wait, hold on, what happened after that?"

I cracked a smile. "Should I tell him or should you?"

She sighed. "Fine. I snuck out to the car and hid while he paid for our bill. I threw out the jeans and we never spoke of it again... Until now!"

He chortled once more, taking the last drink of wine from his cup, "Gwen and I went out to dinner with one of my friends from art school, Derek, and his girlfriend Pearla. We went out to this little Spanish diner on the edge of the city. It was beautiful, really, it had ornate designs on the yellow-painted walls and the tables were made of this hand-carved cherry oak. It was a family business and Pearla knew the owners very well.

Anyway, we had just gotten there and I think Gwen was getting a little nervous meeting my friends for the first time. She started getting a little too confident and thought she could talk to the wait staff in Spanish. It was going pretty well for about five minutes. I could see the light leaving her eyes and the panic set in as she was running out of things to say. The waiter took our drink orders, I think he could sense her steam running out, but she was emboldened by Pearla complimenting her language abilities.

Well, when the guy came back she went right back into a conversation. They were talking about the menu, and Gwen was expressing her disappointment at their fruit selection, which was due to the winter months, and wished for white peaches. When she said that, we saw the waiter's face just kind of deflate. He looked really awkward, and he just poured our drinks and nodded along while she kept talking.

Pearla was laughing when he left and Gwen asked why. She told us Gwen had said, and I quote, "I love white dick in the summer."." He sighed, looking down into his empty glass. When we fell into stitches again he looked at us with a smile. "I think she embarrassed the poor kid."

I couldn't help but laugh at her plight. She was such a sweet girl that she just wanted to make conversation with the guy. It sounds like something she would do. So misguided.

He stopped for a moment while Maureen and I were in tatters, "It gets even worse. Yes, she managed to fit her foot entirely into her mouth. When we were leaving she called to the waiter "Buenas Naglas," instead of Buenas Noches. She told him he had a nice ass..."

"Oh my fucking god," I put my head into my hands and lost my resolve.

"How-how can one person fuck it up that badly?" Maureen asked.

"She tried her best," he shrugged.

We sat back for a while after his story. We listened to the crackling of the fire and looked around the cottage. The walls had been painted a different color since the last time I was here. The table in the kitchen area was messy, the result of our breakfast still lay in shambles. Carmen threw her bananas on the chair this morning and I could still see them splattered everywhere. I sighed. Maureen was gonna have to clean that up.

The burning wood sizzled as she asked Jimmy if he wanted more wine. "Oh, yes, please," he said, tipping his cup below the mouth of the bottle. He moved with such ease and grace. I admired his lithe fingers wrapped around the handle of the mug. His nails were well manicured and appeared shiny.

"Jimmy, are your nails painted?" I asked, interrupting our momentary silence.

He froze. "Yeah, Gwen kinda forced me into being her barbie before I left."

"I think it's sweet." Maureen smiled at him. They were becoming awfully chummy. I was happy to see it.

"I think so too." I took another drink.

It was silent again for a while. I started to comb my fingers through Maureen's hair, it was accessible to me because she lay in my lap. I looked across the landscape of my legs and admired her. Even in her state of comfy dress, she was the most beautiful woman I'd ever been with. No one held a candle to her beauty, her importance. She was my woman and I was her man, no matter who else came between us.

She was asleep after a while. I was surprised when Jimmy spoke up. It startled me. "Would you like to hear an embarrassing story about me?" He asked. I was surprised by his words too. I wouldn't imagine he would offer up that information. He must be really drunk... I wondered how many drinks he'd had.

"Sure."

"This happened a couple months ago. Gwen and I were having sex, y'know, as you do, and I guess we were going a little too long and a little too hard because I started to get a cramp. It was the worst cramp I've ever had in my life, right on the back of my thigh. I started to scream, "fuck fuck fuck!" and she was getting all into it like, "yes!" and then I started screaming "ow, fuck, Jesus Christ!". She didn't know I was in pain and didn't think anything of it. I was just going to push through but my body had other plans. I finally just stopped moving and fell backward off the bed. She peered over the side of the bed and looked down at me, asking if I was alright."

"You fell off the bed? Jesus, that's rough." I took the last drink of my glass. Laughter spilled out as I spoke again, "Did you keep going after that?"

"Of course. Had to finish."

More laughter, more spilling wine on the couch.

We fell into silence again in the wee hours of the night. The time started to creep into the early hours of the morning, and I was getting tired. The windows had long darkened. The clouds were replaced by stars and the moon took the sun's spot in the sky. I enjoyed the nighttime, not nearly as much as sunset, but I knew Jimmy was a night owl. I looked over at him, seeing that he was staring into the fire. I wondered what he was thinking about.

I thought about his offer of the story. He usually wouldn't tell me something that painted him in a poor light. He had a bigger ego than I did, and that was saying a lot. He wanted everything to be perfect all of the time, himself most of all. He was upset when we mucked something up, but it was a meltdown when he missed a chord or pressed a wrong note. I think he had low self-esteem.

I always caught him deep in thought, usually during mealtimes. He didn't like to eat, and when he did he was very particular. He liked to wear dark clothes because they were slimming. Sometimes he worried me but I knew it wasn't my place. He was a very private man. He didn't want to let people in and he sure as hell wasn't going to be happy about me poking around at his eating habits. So I never brought it up.

Our conversation from a few days ago rang in my mind. I remembered the way his brows folded together and his face fell into a grimace. He wasn't upset by my words, he was upset that I had stuck my nose where he felt it didn't belong. I suppose he didn't consider us as close of friends as I thought.

I looked at him once again, seeing the worry in his features now. He looked upset. I wanted to poke, as I usually do, but I decided not to. Before I could turn away he caught my eyes, beckoning me in. His face was round and alluring again, the sharpness from that conversation long gone.

His eyes were glassy and altered by the wine. The barrier that he constructed was wiped away. Something was on his mind, just as it was on mine. Neither of us could deny that we had a connection. There was a link, like a piece of yarn that tied us together. Whether it was the music or some otherworldly loop that wedded us, it was undeniable.

"I'm sorry about what happened the other day." His words were cold and quiet. His fingertips traced the rim of his mug. He wouldn't look at me.

"It's alright. I know you were just upset about my insistence."

"No," he shook his head, "you were right. I need to talk to her. I don't feel like she takes me- us seriously. There's something that's... missing there, I feel it. There is this brick wall she keeps between us. I don't know why. I mean, haven't I done enough to make her know I love her? Haven't I shown her that she can trust me?" He looked at me now, his eyes shiny with the threat of tears.

How do you think I feel? Oh, Rob, c'mon now, don't be so terse. He needs to be prodded with gentleness. Be the good friend you know you can be.

"Maybe you haven't. Maybe she's scared with you being off on tour."

He sighed and sat his mug on the brick fireplace, "I know! I know, okay? I know that tour is destroying this. I want them both. I want my music and I want the woman I love. And I want her to understand that I need the music as much as I need her."

I had never heard him talk so freely, so open. The wine was churning the emotions inside him and bringing them to a boil. They spilled over onto the floor where we could both see them.

I know he's an emotional guy, that much is clear. I believe he is sensitive and gentle, the true mark of an artist. But I also know that he is reserved and cautious. I imagine him to be the kind of person who is deeply affected by everything but is slow to realize the burn from placing his hand on the stove. I was just worried that I was inching closer to the heat, soon to smell burning flesh.

"She does, Pagey, I know she does. That girl loves you with her whole heart. I can see it in her face. Just like I can see that you love her. Hell, I don't think two people could be more fated than you two. But that doesn't change how scared she is. Think about it, you're some rockstar and she's just a photographer from Winnersh. She's probably scared out of her mind!"

"She's not just a photographer," his tone was limp but altogether agitated.

Oh, fucking hell... He makes it so hard to be nice to him sometimes!

"I know, that's not what I meant. You just have to give her time. Real love is worth waiting for."

He sighed.

"Or you could always jam her into the tour."

His face started to glow. I had piqued his interest. "You think that would work? Tour isn't a place to start a relationship."

"Of course not. But you could be with her."

"It didn't seem to work for you and Maureen."

"Well, that's because Maureen is too uppity. Gwen is loose, she's not a homebody."

"I guess. Maybe that could work. You think Peter would ever go for it?"

"Never in a million years. That's why you gotta trick him."

"Yeah, that could work."

Taglist: 

@anothercanyonlady , @jonesyjonesyjonesy , @paginate54 , @seventieswhore , @jimmypages , @jimmys-zeppelin​

[fangirl-everythang]

Happy Father's Day

Summary: (1/3) Y/n hasn't told Harry that she is pregnant yet, however, when the day comes around she finds out he's cheating.

Warning: Swearing, Taylor Swift Bashing (I love Taylor don't get me wrong, it's just for the story's sake.)

Word Count: 1492

It's been 5 weeks since I found out I was pregnant. I wanted to tell Harry the moment I found out. I scheduled a doctor's appointment to confirm it because you can't really trust generic pregnancy. But when the doctor confirmed it, I had no idea how to respond.

Hiding this from him has been the hardest thing I've ever done. Harry and I have been together for almost five years now. We met at his twenty-second birthday party in New York, I was twenty. He was pretty upset that he still had to tour for his birthday, but he said it was great making a new friend. Next thing you know we went public after two and moved in together for our third year. I'm so in love with him, but our careers are taking off, a baby would just interfere with all of it however Harry has always wanted children. He'd make such a great dad too, I can only imagine what our family will look like. But these thoughts often consume me, what if he doesn't want this?

I thought Father's Day would be the best day to tell him, you know like a surprise, and what a better time unless of course, he doesn't want our child. Our parents are coming over because of course, we have gifts and brunch so it's like three for one.

I've been distant from him recently, he's so concerned about me he thinks something is terribly wrong with my morning sickness and all. I figured I'd tell him with a gift which is a wooden base with yarn woven letters made of nails that spells 'dad' with the first ultrasound underneath, there's a card too! I'm so excited to finally start a family with Harry, I just hope he feels the same way. I have mugs for each of our dads that say, 'soon to be grandfather'. Honestly, I couldn't be happier. Opening the front door, I place the keys on the table next to me and walk the bags to the living room. That's funny Harry would've greeted me by now? He's probably asleep.

Setting up for later, I bring the balloons over realizing the tablecloths are upstairs. I work my way up the steps. These are gonna be a hassle with an extra 30-40 pounds on me. The closer I get to the top, I hear a light moan.

"I love y/n, she can't know about this" Harry's voice spoke.

Tiptoeing to peak into our bedroom I see my beloved boyfriend, father of my child shirtless kissing a pant-less Taylor Swift. Wow. Just my, fucking luck. Of course, he would! I mean what was I thinking.

"Of course not, my reputation is already bad" she breathes, cupping the side of his face.

I just watch him continue to kiss her after leaning into her touch. Debating whether to go in there, I feel frozen in my steps.

"This doesn't feel right" his deep voice sighs. No shit.

"She doesn't even care about you Harry, isn't that what you told me?" She says sweetly, such a snake.

He sighs and flips them, the scene before me, causes tears to come to my eyes. Opening the door making my presence known Harry turns to me with wide eyes while Taylor scrambles to find her pants and shirt.

"Y/n it's not-"

"I don't want to hear it" I say to him. Irritation and disgust line my voice. Grabbing the table covers I go back downstairs. I have what I need. After looking at my presentation admiring the work I've done. Harry and Taylor both come downstairs. His eyes red and puffy. I swear the tears make his eyes appear more beautiful, I hope my child has his eyes at least.

Astounded by my quiet stature he sits next to me and I stiffen. I'm just quiet because it's keeping me from crying. Taylor stares blankly at the floor.

"Why the fuck are you still here? Leave." I spit at her.

Oh, how I wish I could drink.

The doorbell rings alarming Taylor. I just walk her to the door and invite our parents in "Thank you Taylor" I say sincerely seeing her nod and pull off fast in her car. Tramp.

"What's that about?" Anne ask,

" New music" she smiles and comes in with everyone trailing her steps.

"Harry what's wrong love?" she asks wiping his tears.

"Nothing just allergies mum" she pats his back and sits at the table.

"Five years, I cannot believe it, Harry it's the longest you've had!" Rob states. "And the fans love you Y/n" Anne adds lightly patting my shoulder. "Our little girls all grown up" y/m/n wipes a fake tear from her eye. Everyone laughs. Thank god Harry is next to me so I don't have to look at him. He places his hand in my lap, but I push it off, going unnoticed by the crowd around us.

"Gift time!" I exclaim as he tries again. Placing each one down in-front of them, they all look up slightly confused.

"What's this?" Y/d/n ask.

"Open them, Haz just wait a few seconds after" they all agree. Rob opening his first then y/d/n they look at me then Harry, our moms looks match Harry's as he unwraps his gift. Stunned he looks at me with tears in his eyes. "Y-you're pregnant?"

"Yeah, surprise." Our parents run up to hug us.

"It's about time, I'm getting old over here!" Y/m/n shouts. Once they leave excitedly picking out baby names. I refuse to look at Harry. I make my way upstairs and begin packing some clothing.

"W-what are you doing?" Harry ask quietly.

"What does it look like Harry?" I say pushing past him going to the bathroom and grabbing some necessities. He just leans on the door frame watching me, still refusing to look at him. At first, I cared but I've made up my mind.

"How far along are we?"

"I'm almost 6 weeks but that doesn't matter" trying to walk past him he just grabs my arm and pulls me into him.

"I love you so much," he cries into my neck. I just stand there, motionless "I'm such a fuck up. Please don't leave me. I want to be here for you, for our baby. Y/n please." His hot tears continue to stream onto my shirt leaving a wet patch.

I soon give in rubbing his back gently. "Calm down Harry," I whisper into his ear as his sobs get louder "Breathe, okay."

Sitting on the closest surface near me, today has been long; I'm tired and pregnant give me a break. He stands between my legs looking down at me. I love him I do, and I want the best for our child, but this hurt. The one request I've had is he doesn't cheat, and he did. I stare at my feet avoiding him at all cost until his hand lifts my chin, forcing me to look at him. "I'm not asking you to forgive me, but I am asking you to stay." He states softly placing a random string of hair behind my ear. He slowly starts leaning in I don't stop him. Suddenly feeling nauseous at the thought of him kissing Taylor, I shove him away from me crying.

He tries to hold me, but I just shake my head frantically, "Harry No," I cry. "How could you!? In our house Harry!" I shout. Continuing to pack my things making myself mad at the thought of his hands all over his ex.

"Y/n I'm so sorry please just stop," clothes I need clothes, just for a few days I'll buy more later. Walking into the bedroom opening my laptop ignoring his pleads. I book a hotel for two weeks, until I situate what is happening. He just sits on the bed trying to see what I'm doing but I soon erased my browser history and factory restarted the device so he can't track anything. Let's combine our accounts so our calendars sync. A swell idea. Wiping my tears, I pack outfits for each day that wouldn't show anything to the paparazzi. He sits there with his head in his hand's sharp intakes of breath audible.

As I approach him, he assumes I'm going to touch him, but I simply go into the drawer next to him. Cringing at the thought of him and Taylor who were here not over 6 hours ago, Grasping the more recent black and white photos gently until I get a photo album for them. Contemplating for a minute looking at the small framed version of my uterus I carefully tear one off handing to him before I seal my bag and walk away, taking my keys and loading my stuff in the backseat.

Looking through the rearview mirror, saying a silent goodbye to the home I hoped to raise my child. It'll get better- I hope.

A/n: Hello Loves! This is also a piece I had on wattpad. Most of these posts today will be Wattpad uploads. I'm trying to see which platform suits my work best. Bear with me while I figure Tumblr out. Masterlist coming soon!

xoxo Janelle