#i went on birth control in 2018 and it completely fucked up my face like i had very very bad acne

[bloodyke]

i was gonna post a side by side of barefaced 2018-2019 me vs 2022 me to show how ive managed to get my skincare routine perfect but i think i deleted all the old pictures 💀💀💀

#zenith.txt #it makes sense i was very insecure #i went on birth control in 2018 and it completely fucked up my face like i had very very bad acne #full face of it and it wouldn't go away no matter what i tried and even after i went off birth control 6 months later #which btw was not bc of the acne it was bc it was causing me to grow ovarian cysts anyways my skin barrier was fucked up for like #two years afterward and only this year have i gotten it under control again! im really digging my routine its so simple its like 4 things #i still get hormonal acne which is irritating but its so much better now and also less painful tbh #you'll just have to take my and my moms word on how bad it was for me #but yeah cerave resurfacing retinol serum ($16) skin proud gentle foaming cleanser ($10) stridex salicylic acid ($5) & elf moisturizer ($8) #plus seuolceuticals snail mucin amd tumeric mask ($20) & various sheet masks (usually under $20) of your chosing when needed #does wonders for my very very sensitive VERY dry acne prone skin #aslo do NOT use the retinol and acid in the same routine you'll Completely Ruin your skins health #i personally do a retinol retional rest day rest day salicylic acid rotation #also benzoyl peroxide can help clear acne but i dont need that level of strength anymore so i stopped using it #ANYWAYS all this to say birth control fucked up my hormone levels and health for YEARS even tho i only took it for 6 months #and now im finally getting back to normal #and by normal i mean my hormone levels are back to normal acne is a normal part of human skin and shouldn't be looked down upon

[shellheadtm-a]

i should move a list like this to my rules or 616 tony care manual but, for now, i realize i’ve never given a list of the most important runs to how i view tony.  so we’re gonna do that now, so you comic-savvy folks, at least, have an idea of where i’m coming from.  i should point out i’ve read (and reread) about 99% of nearly everything tony’s appeared in.  so you won’t find just iron man comics on this list.  these are kinda done chronologically timescale wise instead of date of publication.

hold on to your asses.  this is long.

+ tales of suspense:  for obvious reasons - it’s the origin story and his early adventures, and how he earned the nickname the golden avenger. + invincible iron man vol. 1:  good insight to how tony viewed himself and iron man and the public face of tony stark in the early days. + avengers vol. 1:  second verse, same as the first, formation of the avengers, their thawing steve from the ice, and all the ups and downs of the team roster. + captain america: man out of time:  after finding steve tony introduces him to the modern world.  steve wants out, realizes he’s been viewing the past with rose-colored glasses, and comes back to the present to help the avengers defeat kang. + demon in a bottle (iim 120-128):  the start of tony’s issues with alcohol but by no means the last.  the set up for his time being homeless. + doomquest (iim 149-150):  firmly establishes doom as an iron man villain, on top of everyone else he bothers.  also known as that time tony got to live his ultimate wet dream as a knight in king arthur’s court and fight alongside king arthur. + invincible iron man (163-170): covers tony’s fall from grace as he gets played by a honeypot and loses his company to obadiah stane, and he turns iron man over to rhodey.  + invincible iron man (172):  also known as that time steve found tony in a flophouse and tried to talk some sense into him but you gotta want to help yourself first and tony very emphatically did not (he was actually trying to drink himself to death so...).  also also known as that time steve bridal carried tony out of a burning building like the cover of a cheesy romance novel but no homo, right, marble. + invincible iron man (173 & 178):  tony hits rock bottom after skipping out of rhodey’s mom’s house.  otherwise known as that time tony lived on the streets for months and no one knew where he was or if he was even alive and helped deliver a baby in a blizzard. + armor wars (iim 225-232):  also known as that time tony’s tech got stolen and he went on a rampage to get it back, and also betrayed steve for really reals the first time.  it’s okay, they make up (the pink superstar shirt). + onslaught (event): it’s a mutant based storyline i don’t even know where to start explaining this one.  but it ends in heroes reborn - which is acknowledged but not written in on this blog. + iron man (early 00s):  a darker, grittier iron man.  also showcases tony’s utter self loathing, loss of hope for any form of happiness for himself, and the things he does to try to make himself not feel like such a waste of space.  otherwise known as the time he had an artificial heart from the suit that went obsessive stalker on him and the birth of FRIDAY.  one of my penultimate iron man runs, highly recommended but super dark. + avengers disassembled:  wanda destroys the mansion and the avengers break up, seemingly for good.  tony can’t afford to rebuild and no one has the heart to keep going after what happened. + new avengers:  until there’s a breakout of the raft and steve decides it’s time he and tony put together a new team.  tony can never say no to steve when he begs.  one of my all time favorite avengers line ups, including wolverine, luke cage, spider-woman, spider-man, ms. marvel (carol).  that time the avengers ended up in luke cage and jessica jones’s wedding photo. + extremis:  that time tony could talk to computers in his head - how that came to be.  also incredibly important:  sets the stage for civil war. + execute program:  definitely sets the stage for civil war and displays in a lot of ways how extremis is effecting tony. + civil war:  self explanatory, i think.  comic civil war was entirely us-based, did not involve bucky as a focus point (he becomes the new cap, after all, at tony’s request), and concerned the destruction of stamford due to the new warriors confronting a villain known as nitro.  bitter is the war between brothers, etc. + fallen son & the confession:  steve is assassinated (or...lost in time, more is the case) on red skull’s orders.  tony stark completely loses his shit and falls the fuck apart.  the confession solidified - i think - stevetony as a valid possible ship. + mighty avengers:  explains tony’s reasoning for doing what he did concerning civil war - which was play damage control so people like spider-man didn’t end up on a dissection table instead of the negative zone.  ultron gives him boobs. + iron man - director of shield:  post civil war, tony’s time at the helm of shield, and having a few mental breakdowns, fighting the mandarin, and finding out fun new things about extremis. + secret invasion (event):  skrulls have been infiltrating everywhere.  tony gets uploaded with a virus that takes out all of his tech?  and extremis itself.  is removed as director of shield, osborn is put in his place.  takes place in the middle of the fraction run of iron man. + invincible iron man (the fraction run):  literally the absolute, hands down, penultimate you won’t find better iron man run and view of tony stark as a person.  includes fear itself, dark reign, and the seige of asgard.  cannot recommend this one highly enough.  tony dealing with the aftermath of civil war, and then the brain wipe.  we love a broken man. + avengers prime:  tony and steve finally make up when the realms merge together.  he and steve and thor have all kinds of fun adventures against hela, tony ends up naked, we find out that thor and hellcat did the do.  good fun for everyone but also displays how much tony’s faking what he does and doesn’t remember, if you’re willing to dig a little. + invincible iron man (2013):  tony’s vacation in space, discovering he’s adopted and has a brother, the return of the mandarin’s rings, inhuman fun, the test city that was really a giant iron man suit, and fun times with dark elves.  this run is a ride and i love it despite everyone else hating it.  it has some juicy tony characterization moments. + avengers 2013/infinity:  look, you’d need a decoder ring to understand this shit without reading the whole damn thing.  contains superior iron man and the incursions, the time tony used the infinity gauntlet, the illuminati...there’s a lot of unpack here but explains the weight the current tony stark is carrying from what he did - especially as superior iron man - during this whole timeframe.  includes old!steve. + invincible iron man (2015):  the lead up to civil war ii/secret empire (note:  we don’t even look in secret empire’s direction on this blog).  just a good little snatch of characterization (surprisingly by bendis).  nice look into how tony views himself and how he handles his problems (which is to say he doesn’t handle them at all). + all new, all different avengers:  tony and his tiny little team, comprised of a bunch of kids, the vision, sam!cap, and jane!thor.  lead up to the thing we don’t speak of, but puts into perspective where tony sits at that moment post-incursions. + winter soldier (2018): he shows up in all of like three pages and is mentioned in a few more, but it solidifies that tony and bucky are close?  that bucky trusts tony knowing where he lives and working on his arm, and it puts tony in a support role over being a main player.  also rod reis did the art and it’s fucking immaculate.  

this is pretty much where, right  now, my full canon for tony ends.  i do include some bits from the newest avengers run (up through the vampires - and possibly tony being tossed back in time, i have the feeling he’s gonna hook up with the prehistoric avengers).  also from marvelous ms. marvel and captain marvel, and web of black widow.  what it does not and will not include ever is tony stark: iron man.  we don’t let slott into this house.

#constant //: ( about ) #// i needed to do this #// this isn't everything obviously #// just the stuff i feel like is the most important to tony #// and how i view tony #// bc again #// i've read like #// 99% of his shit #// even if he only shows up in like one page #// there's some stuff in bucky's run as cap #// and in steve being deserumed that i didn't include #// that is still important but #// not as important as all of this so #// here you go

[serowoenin]

December 17th

     Today is my third official day of sobriety...from smoking weed that is. I know–funny thing to be writing about or even referring to being sober from. But honestly, I have been having a bad time dealing with my mental illnesses and for the longest time I thought weed was my saving grace. I was WRONG.

   I guess to give you a run down of how I even got here in the first place, at least I think this is where it all started, I have to go all the way back to 2017 and give a not-so-brief-but-not-so-detailed little rundown. Let’s begin:

May 2015- I moved out of my parents at 17 to live with other family because I was having problems at home. In actuality, I was going through some severe depression and didn’t know it…but was also doing angsty teenage stuff so there is that.

August 2015- SURPRISE! Found out I was pregnant a day before entering my senior year of high school. Judge all you want–I know I am such a whore for getting pregnant at 17. NEXT.

October 2015- I miscarried my child, was considered homeless, on the brink of dropping out of school and–had my first suicide attempt.

November 2015- I was in a mental hospital from Halloween until the 17th when I finally moved into a group home. Because I was still 17, I became a ward of the state and entered the foster care system.

December 2017- After a lot of CBT, meeting with a psychiatrist and a difficult face-to-face with my mom–I was diagnosed with major depressive disorder, post-traumatic stress disorder and a bunch of other shit that I take with a grain of salt and don’t let defy me.

February 2016- I met a boy, that boy changed my life–he became my everything. His name was Luke.

April 2016- I graduated high school, turned 18 and–SURPRIIIISE! I got kicked out of my group home because they “accidentally” terminated my case. (Which coincidentally was 3 days after my 18th birthday)

May 2016- Luke’s family took me in and I moved in with his grandmother. She and I became super close and I got accepted into a technical college.

August 2016- I worked all summer and saved up for my own apartment…also started college. But I had to do something that was difficult for the sake of my mentality. 

September 2016- I broke up with Luke. I loved him and it was difficult but I needed time to figure out me. It did not end well. Also lost access to my medication, psychiatrist and well…any mental support I needed. As I had no license or car.

October 2016 - April 2017 Let’s just say I had a lot of fun until I didn’t. I wanted the full college experience. But I missed my Luke…but fuck that we move forward NOT backwards. Smoked weed regularly.

April 2017- I shaved my head bald…and smoked weed.

May 2017- I met someone else and was struggling financially living on my own.

June 2017- I moved in with my new partner and his family to avoid being homeless again and to save for a new place. It was a mistake. He was abusive. His mothers did NOT care but I had no where else to go.

July 2017- SURPRISE! Found out I was pregnant by my abusive asshole of a partner. Quit smoking weed.

August 2017- I moved out because I couldn’t take the physical and psychological abuse anymore. Moved in with friends–but that proved to be difficult as they had their own lives and it wasn’t a good environment for a pregnant me.

October 2017- Moved back in with abusive partner…I know, I know—but he had a way of making me believe he would change for the sake of our child.

January 2018- Went back to school and while things were fine for a few months…old habits started again. 

February 2018- Had a very scary incident that ended in my abuser being arrested and charged with DV/Assault. I still believed him when he and his mothers said he would change….he got out on an OR.

April 2018- POPPED THAT BUN RIGHT MF OUT MY OVEN. Had to go to court 3 days after giving birth–my abuser was put on probation for 2 years and then proceeded to quit his job.

May 2018- The abuse got worse and for the protection of my son I left. Got a restraining order for my son and I. This would be the last time my son and I see my abuser. 

June 2018- Reconnected with an old friend–Luke. I know what I said about moving forward but--mind ya business. I also started smoking weed again.

August 2018- Luke asked for my hand in marriage and we moved in together…he helped me with my KJ every step of the way.

September 2018- Got married to my Luke, felt safe and happy.

March 2019- Nothing really happened from September to March…but in March Luke filed for step-parent adoption.

April 2019- KJ turned 1, we went on vacation for a week in Texas, I turned 21 and my abuser gave our attorney/the courts consent for the adoption. It was over…but the damage was still done and I was still smoking weed. HEAVY. Started working again.

August 2019- My brother-in-law got married. Things were stressful because of problems in my marriage but I had my weed there to comfort me and make it all go away.

September 2019- Had our 1 year wedding anniversary. Still was having problems, but weed made it all go away.

October 2019- Moved in with my Luke’s parents. The adoption became finalized and I got a new job (my previous job had been seasonal). Smoking a LOT more.

November 2019- Adjusting to living with the in-laws…finally addressed marriage problems and worked through them. Smoking heaviest I’ve ever smoked in my life. Quit my new job because they were on some bullshit. (Fuck Target)

     Which brings us to December! On the 14th day of this very fun month I decided I would be smoking my final blunt. Am I against weed? Obviously not. Will I eventually smoke again? Honestly don’t plan on it. The 15th was my first day without weed and I am not going to lie–a bitch wanted to smoke. I was so irritable, angry, sad, happy…every emotion I feel like I blocked out smoking for that long I felt at once. The second day was better but I my had moments.

   The 16th I decided to keep myself busy to curb cravings so I ate healthy, exercised and did crafts with KJ and Luke. It wasn’t as hard falling asleep but staying asleep was definitely a problem. My heart keeps racing to the point where I wake up with severe anxiety and then I fall back asleep. I do, however, have a lot more energy and don’t feel nearly as sluggish as when I would smoke before bed. 

   Finally, we make it to today! I didn’t go into great detail recounting what has happened but I feel like writing it all out int a timeline and processing it will help me with actually dealing with my issues. I am seeking a psychiatrist and hoping to get to a place where my depression doesn’t control me but it will take time. I don’t want to be the way I am–I know I won’t be able to completely get rid of what I have but I do want to take control of ME again. I haven’t felt like myself in so long but I know that discovering and shaping myself into who I want to be as a wife, mother, friend and person will be so much better with the current support system I have. I had no idea how to start my first post but–this honestly seems like a good foundation to me. Eh?

Any suggestions for the next post?

#mental health #me #blog #weed #marijuana #new to this #follow #feedback #ask me anything #ask me questions #ask away

[messifangirl]

Cressi Rec List (Lionel Messi/Cristiano Ronaldo Football RPF)

Now that the world cup is over, it appears that there are many new football fans interested in this pairing! I’ve made a few rec lists before (so if you’ve seen them, some of these fics may be familiar to you), but it’s been some time since then (some of those fics are deleted or the authors go by different names now etc), so here’s a list of some of my favorite complete Cressi fic posted on AO3 for anyone who is interested. 

Listed alphabetically by author and title. I’ve included the story summary, word count, rating, year posted on AO3, and a few keywords. If you check them out, please don’t forget to leave kudos and comments! (And of course, these are far from the only fics out there for this pairing--check out the Leo/Cris tag on AO3--there are a ton of fics! I just tried to narrow it down to some of my personal favorites. 57 to be exact.)

Nice Day (For A White Wedding) by acchikocchi (2011)

Leo's the one eloping with Cristiano Ronaldo, so why is it up to Cesc to make sure nothing goes wrong? And what kind of elopement has an afterparty, anyway?

Words: 7681, rating: general, about: crack fic, humor, weddings, love

Tactical Decoy by acchikocchi (2014)

"Don't worry," Gerard said. "If he stands you up I'll kill him."

Words; 631, status, rating: general, about: humor, friendship, first dates

like sparklers on guy fawkes night by arachnestomb (2015)

No one knows exactly how it works, but when you meet your soulmate, you glow. Leo’s seen it happen in front of him. When he was a kid, he saw two people crash into each other--literally, crash--and then they went up in lights. He thought for a second her chest might burst open like a firework, that’s how bright it was. He was only four years old, but it was beautiful. He dreamed that it’d happen to him someday.

Cristiano’s never actually seen two soulmates glow. He saw a recreation of it some animator created for the sake of education. He saw someone compare the sparklers he lit on Guy Fawkes’ Night to the lights of two soulmates coming together. He doesn’t understand what’s so cool about it, honestly, and if it’s going to happen he only hopes it isn’t someone he hates.

Words: 2880, rating: teen and up, about: soulmates

A Sort of Idea by awkwardsorta (2012)

Because: I get bored at work; Cesc takes a lot of attention from some of Messi's best looking-after people; Ronaldo can totally spot an isolated star; and Kaka's just nice.

Words: 1322, rating: general, about: picnics, friendship

The Ice Bucket Challenge by bethepuck (2014)

Cristiano Ronaldo is nominated to complete the ice bucket challenge and nominates none other than Lionel Messi to do the same.

Words: 4244, rating: not rated (prob explicit), about: smut, top Cris

O Leãozinho by bethepuck (2014)

Lionel Messi, unexpectedly, is traded to Real Madrid, for vague reasonings and is forced to leave his home, adjust to a new team, and face his greatest rival.

Words: 44468, rating: not rated (prob mature), about: transfers, Messi to Madrid, teammates, smut, top Cris, love

We Could Be "A Thing" by bethepuck (2015)

Lionel Messi transfers high schools from Bishop Stamford to Illyria Prep and receives some, at first, unwanted attention as the wealthy and popular Cristiano Ronaldo does anything to get Leo into bed.

Words: 27487, rating: not rated (prob mature), about: high school au, rivalry, smut, top Cris, love

Like A Hurricane by carolinka (2015)

I am just a dreamer, but you are just a dream, 

You could have been anyone to me.

(Apparently students in Madrid and Barcelona need to bond. Via internet.)

Words: 31852, rating: mature, about: epistolary, humor, high school au, love

See you through by couldvelovedyou (2015)

Cristiano gets injured in the Clásico and is out for the rest of the season. Leo helps him through.

Words: 5040, rating: teen and up, about: injuries, friendship

Wake Up Calls by detodores (chasingnukes) (2016)

kink meme prompt:

"Cristiano wakes up one morning and rolls over to see Leo still naked next to him from the sex they had the night before. Leo is still sleeping but Cristiano is getting so horny seeing him laying on his stomach, his ass totally exposed that he can't help himself. Cristiano starts rimming a still sleeping Leo. Leo eventually wakes up at the feeling and then they decide to do it again."

Words: 1409, rating: explicit, about: smut, top Cris

but if you want me by dizzydancing (2016)

Cristiano walks away (again) because he needs to regain a sense of control. He needs to regain the fragments of sanity and restraint that seem to slip away whenever he loses himself to the sensation of Leo’s soft lips under his.

Leo doesn't follow. He never does. Cristiano should be used to it, but his heart still sinks every time.

Words: 8394, rating: teen and up, about: friendship, relationships, friends with benefits, rivalry, love

one is the loneliest number by Flywoman (2012)

Sometimes no one understands you like your greatest rival. Set immediately after Portugal's elimination from the 2010 World Cup.

Words: 3030, rating: mature, about: WC 2010, Portugal Nt, Argentina Nt, hurt/comfort, smut, sex, top Cris 

no is the saddest experience by Flywoman (2014)

Lionel Messi visits Cristiano Ronaldo after Portugal fail to make it out of the group stage at World Cup 2014. A sort of sequel to one is the loneliest number.

Words: 1805, rating: mature, about WC 2014, Portugal Nt, Argentina Nt, hurt/comfort, smut 

it's just no good anymore by Flywoman (2015)

His countrymen have never loved him, but his greatest rival just might. A sequel to one is the loneliest number and no is the saddest experience, but all you really need to know is that this is not a first-time fic.

Warning for rough (consensual) sex.

Words: 3548, rating: mature, about: CA 2015, Argentina Nt, hurt/comfort, hurt/comfort, smut, top Cris 

Coming Out by footielover (2015)

Cristiano Ronaldo and Lionel Messi have been quietly dating for a few months. Then a paparazzo takes some rather intimate pictures of them and all hell breaks loose.

Words: 61599, rating: explicit, about: relationships, friendship, family, smut, coming out, top Leo

Don't fall in love with a superhero by Guessmysoul (2017)

Cristiano Ronaldo, a handsome, intelligent and a charismatic young man could have any man he pleased; except, his attention was consume by a little shy boy with a surprising intelligence, and Spider-Man his saviour in moments of distress. Why did he had to fell for both and not being corresponded?

Words: 10991, rating: teen and up, about: friendship, love, superhero au

everything will fill with light by haroldslouis (2015)

The one where Cristiano falls in love with his son's nanny, Leo, and Sergio Ramos is there because he signed up for the drama.

Words: 27135, rating: mature, about: nanny au, kid fic, love, smut, top Cris

rains, pours (i'll be there for you) by highways (2014)

Winning isn't constant, but maybe something, someone, always is. (post Copa del Rey final, 2014)

Words: 1352, rating: not rated (prob teen and up), about: CdR 2014, love

the boiling point by highways (2014)

Leo's always preferred boys, but he's never had a type until stepping into high school, never really cared for what kind of boy he liked until he suddenly did, wanted to be fucked in the locker rooms by the basketball captain, face pressed against the sting of the cold metal doors, back arching and moulding to the flit of someone's fingers down his spine.

aka, the one where Cristiano's the MVP basketball captain and Leo is essentially a nobody.

Words: 12471, rating: mature, about: high school au, basketball au, relationships, bullying, smut, top Cris, love

Sweethearts: Alfajores by keep_it_fresh

Non-canon. AU-ish. Tween-fic. Middle School (12/13). It takes a team for Lio to not only realize he has a crush but also to snag to his guy.

[Cressi Week 2017: Day 1 - First Times]

Words: 2297, rating: general, about: middle school au, first crush, teen love

Sweethearts: Milk Bones by keep_it_fresh (2017)

Non-canon/AU-ish. Cris wakes up to find an unexpected visitor trapped in his backyard.

[Cressi Week 2017: Day 2 - Identity]

Words: 3513, rating: teen and up, about: shapeshifter au, animals, relationships, love

A Supernatural Love (Cause Love is What You Want) by kkslover9 (2016)

The one where Cristiano and Lionel are dukes vying for the attention of a princess but Cristiano ends up cursed to love his rival instead.

Words: 6056, rating: teen and up, about: magical au, royalty au, fairy tale, love

Let Me Drive You Down the Love Street by kkslover9 (2017)

Cristiano is as surprised as anyone when he ends up on the same team as Lionel Messi. It's not the challenge he's used to but he's ready for it, to take Major League Soccer by storm with a new team and a new partnership.

Words: 20187, rating: explicit, about: MLS, teammates, friendship, slow burn, love, sex, no clear top

I Won’t Bite (Unless That’s What You Like) by kkslover9 (2017)

"Leo licks his lips. He wants it so badly, to sink his fangs into Cristiano’s neck and drink from him and Cristiano knows it."

Words: 6065, rating: explicit, about: vampire au, semi-prostitution, blood, smut, top Cris

You Got to Know (That Everyone Falls) by kkslover9 (2017)

Everyone is born with a soul mark but not everyone gets to keep it. It's been two years since Leo's soul mark burned itself off the inside of his left wrist. With encouragement from his mother and his best friend, Kun, he starts attending a support group for those who have lost their soul marks. Here he meets the confident and charismatic Cristiano who has been without a soul mark since birth. As they become closer, Leo realises that Cristiano has insecurities of his own. Can they overcome their vulnerabilities or will their doubts break them once and for all?

Words: 10840, rating: teen and up, about: soulmate au, soulmarks, loss, relationships, sex, love

you smiled and then the spell was cast by kkslover9 (2018)

Cristiano was Leo's first kiss and first boyfriend but then he moved away. Now nine years later, he's back and Leo finds himself drawn to his childhood friend once more.

Words: 24935, rating: explicit, about: New York au, ex-boyfriends, relationships, crushes, childhood friends

Best Player by LeoDios (2015)

Cristiano grudgingly goes to the UEFA Best Player in Europe Award ceremony. He wants to have a drink with Leo Messi, but for that he has to visit him in his hotel suite.

Words: 24781, rating: explicit, about: award shows, lots of smut, top Cris, love, injuries, relationships

Who is he? by LeoDios (2015)

Wow. Just wow.

This isn't the first time someone cornered him and told him he just had to watch this incredible video of Leo Messi. It is pretty annoying any time it happens.

This time it's Sergio, grinning and practically jumping up and down like a kid at a birthday party all hopped up on cake.

This isn't just any video though. He can feel Sergio's eyes on him, drinking in his reaction gleefully. Cris feels his face going hot, red hot.

Words: 4279, rating: not rated (prob explicit), about: smut, top Leo

In the Wake of Loss by luxover (2012)

Leo opens the door and Cristiano is standing there, leaning against the doorjamb like he does it all the time, like it’s normal for him to just swing by. Leo’s confused; he doesn’t even know Cristiano, not really, not in the ways that count, and certainly not enough for them to hang out.

Words: 7706, rating: mature, smut, rivalry, relationships, humor, love

Day 1: Firsts by MADR1D1SMO (2017)

Leo goes through the text slowly. He can recognise some of the pictures - the famous photo of them standing together in their countries’ colours before the international in Switzerland, the ones from the Ballon d’Or Gala.

There are a lot of firsts.

It doesn’t have the most important firsts, though, he thinks.

Words: 5028, rating: general, about: first meetings, rivalry, friendship, humor

Day 2: Identity by MADR1D1SMO (2017)

After taking a hard blow to the head during a game against Espanyol, Leo wakes up with amnesia. The person who helps him remember is the least one anybody could expect it to be.

Words: 13484, rating: general, about: amnesia, injuries, teammates, friendship, possible love

Day 3: Other Worlds by MADR1D1SMO

There’s a world where Cris plays for Madrid and Leo for Barça, the one we all know and love. There’s also another world, where CR7 and D10S are the deadliest duo in football history playing for the best club in the world. What happens if one day, the two of them switch places?

Words: 15341, rating: general, about: parallel universe au, injuries, teammates, friendship, possible love

Day 5: Time by MADR1D1SMO (2017)

During a Clásico match Leo gets a severe career-ending injury after which he would never be able to play again. Cristiano doesn’t realise how much competition is important for him until it’s gone. He gets one chance to go back in time and try to prevent the injury, but will Leo believe him when he tries to warn him?

Words: 11619, rating: general, about: time travel au, injuries, award shows, teammates, friendship, possible love

nice for what by nahco3 (2018)

 “Who are you and how did you get this number?” Ronaldo says, instead of a greeting.

“It’s me,” Leo says, momentarily taken aback. He hasn’t had to introduce himself for years. 

“Um, Leo Messi.”

“You know, if this is a prank call, it isn’t very original,” Ronaldo says.

Words: 4006, rating: explicit, about: WC 2018, Portugal Nt, Argentina Nt, angst, hurt/comfort, smut

the best you ever had by nahco3 (2011)

five times Leo Messi surprised Cristiano Ronaldo.

Words: 2044, rating: teen and up, about: award shows, humor, transfers, sex

Okay? Okay. Okay... by Nina22783 (2014)

It's been nearly four years since Lionel Messi and Cristiano Ronaldo have been together and a BBC journalist finally gets them both to tell the world how it all happened...

Words: 24469, rating: mature, about: WC 2014, coming out, kid fic, injuries, smut, top Cris, family, relationships, friendship, WC 2018 au

Flesh by orphan_account (AM) (2015)

"I was wondering where you were hiding", Ronaldo said, voice getting on Leo's every nerve as the man invaded his personal space. There was a lot of that on the pitch but Leo felt uncomfortable now, dressed in his suit with his hip pressed against the counter. "I'm not hiding", Leo bit back, doing his best to retain his monotone but ultimately failing. He could tell by the way Ronaldo's lips curved and he confidently stepped even closer.

Words: 5735, rating: explicit, about: award shows, smut, top Cris, dub con, hotels 

I Think We Made A Sex Tape? by orphan_account (AM) (2015)

The prequel.

Words: 3998, rating: explicit, about: smut, sex tapes, drunk sex, rough sex, top Cris

If This Were A Movie by orphan_account (AM) (2015)

"How about you text him to explain then?", Leo asked, stifling a yawn in his hand. "I haven't text him since like... May", Higuain whined, reminding Leo that he captained a bunch of overgrown children. "How about you give him my number and I send him a text then?", Leo prompted, shocked and annoyed by his own proposal.

Words: 16222, rating: teen and up, about: injuries, friendship, hurt/comfort, fluff

Playing With Fire by orphan_account (AM) (2015)

"You're whatever I want you to be", Leo replied easily, "and it's sir".

Words: 38495, rating: explicit, about: bodyguard au, guns, violence, powerstruggle, dub con, smut, ust, top Cris

The Re-Enactment by orphan_account (AM) (2016)

The sequel.

Words: 6360, rating: explicit, about: smut, sex tapes, top Cris

Your Summer Dream by orphan_account (AM) (2015)

Cris had watched and wondered, wondered what it'd be like to touch all the soft unmarred skin, to feel Leo's muscles around his fingertips. Then he'd had to adjust his shorts and remind himself that having a boner in public would probably drawn him even more attention.

Words: 4068, rating: mature, about: vacation, smut

It gets lonely at the top by postmodernsleaze (2014)

Portugal is on the verge of being eliminated from the World Cup, and Cristiano Ronaldo's injury is progressively getting worse. Not knowing how to deal with any of it, he turns to perhaps the most unlikely person imaginable.

Words 7362, rating: explicit, about: WC 2014, hurt/comfort, Portugal Nt, Argentina Nt, friendship, humor, smut

A Pitch Invader Attack, Messi/Ronaldo by prompt_fills (2015)

During an El Clásico match a crazy fan manages to get onto the pitch just when Cristiano and Messi are arguing over a foul. Things go sappier from there.

Words: 5657, rating: teen and up, about: violence, hurt/comfort, hospitals, PTSD, kissing

Home Is Freedom by prompt_fills (2017)

The Deaemon!AU

Sometimes it’s not the humans who make the first move.

All humans have deamons but no one has ever seen Cristiano’s daemon. Leo isn’t so quick to jump to conclusions because his own deamon is currently missing.

Words: 4574, rating: general, about: deamon au, animals, soulmates, injuries

Cris/Leo, two Leos from different universes swap places by prompt_fills (2016)

There is a reality in which Leo and Ronaldo aren’t together yet but there is also another reality in which Cris and Leo are together.

This is a story for an anon who wanted to know what happens when one Leo switches places with the other Leo.

Words: 6633, rating: teen and up, about: parallel universe au, humor, kid fic,  kissing

Ronaldo/Messi, exchanging jersey by prompt_fills (2015)

Written for footballkink2, PP5, for this prompt: How about during one El Clasico in the new season Ronaldo came over and asked for Messi's jersey? Messi was a bit shocked but still complied. Maybe later media made a big deal out of it and the rumor of Ronaldo preparing to leave La Liga next season starts spreading. Messi realized he doesn't want to see Ronaldo leaving, he wants Ronaldo to always be his best enemy. And their relationship takes the next step from there?

Words: 1771, rating: teen and up, about: humor, fluff, transfers, friendship, possible love

D10S by pseuicide (2015)

Cristiano was sunning himself in front of one of the castle's enormous windows when he felt a hand on his arm. "The king requires your presence in his bedchamber tonight," the guard said. Cristiano resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The king required his presence just about every night.

"As His Grace desires."

Words: 17309, rating: explicit, about: harem au, royalty au, concubines, dub con, power struggles, smut, top Leo, friendship, love

Studio Galáctico by pseuicide (2015)

Cristiano's first instinct was to laugh.

The guy was tiny, easily a head shorter than him, with slender limbs and pale, tattooed skin. He was cute, with his big brown eyes and dimpled chin, but nothing about him really screamed 'top.' He had a sleeve of tattoos down one arm and to Cris it looked like a little boy playing at being a badass. Cristiano wondered where they found this guy and why they thought he was going to be able to convincingly top him.

Words: 5333, rating: explicit, about: porn star au, sex tapes, porn, smut, top Leo

I Bet There's One Thing I'm Better At by sdmadridista (2015)

After Ronaldo wins the Ballon d'Or for the second year in a row, Messi needs to prove he's better at something.

Words: 967, rating: mature, about: award shows, smut

All Gone (Well Done) by slappedq (2016)

He does the best he can at the moment; he pretends.

Spreads his hands at the referee and pretends that it was an accident.

Blanks his face (because he can't steel his pounding heart) and pretends that doesn't want to punch the snarling Alves in front of him.

Pretends that he is endlessly frustrated by the loss, not the overwhelming urge to push Leo back on the ground.

Pretends that he doesn't want to hear Leo to gasp like that again.

Words: 10926, rating: explicit, about: njuries, friendship, award shows, dub con, smut, top Cris, relationships, love, coming out

Regret, Remorse; Hold On - I Got To Go by slappedq (2016)

It’s extremely hard to just walk away from Leo when he is like this. Eyes bright with hunger and body tense with need, wound tight like a string; waiting for Cristiano to break him apart.

Words: 5538, rating: explicit, about: relationships, smut, love, rough sex, top Cris

four times leo messi surprised cristiano and one time he didn't by stickmarionette (2015)

As long as he lives, Cristiano will never forget that horrible screech. It tears through him in the seconds before the landing ships take over the horizon and echoes between his ears for the entire week after that, getting louder every time he closes his eyes.

Cristiano Ronaldo and Leo Messi have to team up to save the planet.

Words: 12780, rating: general, about: friendship, teammates, alien au

We're Going to Fight by stillgold (2018)

Ronaldo and Messi have hated each other for as long as they can remember. But then one day, Cris sees something that changes everything. It’s easier than Cris imagines to start to like Messi, easier than anything and more frightening.

Words: 5245, rating: explicit, about: award shows, CA 2016, WC 2018, Portugal Nt, Argentina Nt, rivalry, smut, top Cris

Text Me by tenshi_who (2013)

In which Leo tries to stay annoyed at Cristiano. He really does. But the other man is way too charming, and his lips are too distracting.

Or, The One Where Leo and Cris Film a Commercial Together and End Up Falling In Love.

Words: 5383, rating; general, about: friendship, fluff, love, smut

Remember the Best Times Are Yet To Come by Velocity_Owl87 (2014)

Leo Messi has heard it all: He was too small, he was too quiet, he was too different. He didn't give a damn and did what he wanted to do and was damned good at it. He didn't care that he wasn't what an Alpha was supposed to be.

Hell, he wasn't even worried about finding an Omega.

The game was all that mattered.

Cristiano Ronaldo was too focused on making it against the odds. His goals were clear and none of them involved getting mated and settling down. A feat that was made easier by his not being a typical Omega.

Then Cesc Fabregas's party occurred and now Messi and Ronaldo are bonded and mated and have to deal with the aftermath of that meeting and all it brought with it.

Words: 39094, rating: mature, about: a/b/o au, mpreg au, relationships, kid fic, smut, top Cris

The disease by yulin (2016)

There's a weird disease going around. When you touch a fertile man, you have a sort of shock, like static electricity. Then, in a few days, you either have sex with that man or you die. Leo catches the disease, and Cristiano has to take care of him. 

Words: 6568, rating: explicit, about: fuck or die au, dub con, friendship, smut, top Cris

#fic #cressi #football rpf #cristessi #crismessi #fic rec #lionaldo #football fandom #football fanfiction #lionel messi #cristiano ronaldo #argentina nt #portugal nt #real madrid #fc barcelona

[momofaddict]

What a difference a day makes

4 score & 30 weeks ago (ok, just 30 weeks - Aug 31, 2018), M was implanted with Nexplanon (birth control implant). She'd gone to the doctor a couple of weeks previously, got a pregnancy test, and all was golden - negative. Implant was implanted.

Fast-forward 30 weeks & M is coming home for an impromptu visit to my house from her Gma's (she's remained sober since her one-night slip in late November & before that, hasn't used since May). On the hour & a half drive home, she talked about this strange gas that she'd had for a while. A lot of movement, but not actually toots. Frequent heartburn. Weird poop. A LOT of weight gain. I asked if there was ANY chance of her being pregnant. Nope! She'd had the implant since August, she DID have it removed in Jan 2019 because she thought it was affecting her moods a great deal. But the last sex she'd had was Nov... With D, the ex. Ok cool! She was covered.

She came to visit on a Friday. We spent a wonderful weekend together! We left my house Sunday to head back to her Grandma's & 5 minutes into our mini-roadtrip, she says that maybe we should buy a pregnancy test just to rule it out. We made a beeline to CVS, bought the test, & she took the test in the CVS bathroom. The first test was measured by a blue line (neg) vs a blue cross (pos) test. It came out with a cross (positive) BUT the horizontal line was grey, while the vertical line was blue. I was strongly optimistic that it was negative, but she was not.

I immediately bought another test. This one had 2 tests in it, both using the words "pregnant" vs "not pregnant". No question there.

We decided that she could not face her VERY judgmental grandma without knowing for sure, so we headed back to my house, her gulping down lots of water. She tried to pee on the next stick, only got a trickle & got an error. Probably not enough pee... It had only been 10 min since her last test.

She finished a 20 oz bottle of Bai plus more water. 20 min later she tried again. "Pregnant". She was completely freaked!

We talked for hours. She got her shift covered for work that night. I called out for work for the next day. We texted her grandma & let her know we would come the next day. We did math, counted weeks (we estimated 16) & months trying to figure out when she got pregnant and determined she was the 1% of people that get pregnant on Nexplanon. We determined she got pregnant sometime in November, googled how far along she was, how big the baby was, realized she was already around 4 months in, & freaked out about how little time she had left. Our heads we're spinning.

She already knew she was planning to go back to her old sober house. She'd made plans & the ball was rolling. But she wasn't sure how the pregnancy would affect that. She was also supposed to start a certified nurses assistant training class on the upcoming Tuesday after our weekend visit, which was supposed to help her find better work in her original sober community. A topic she was already struggling to tell her Gma about. Lastly, she was working at a restaurant in a city near her Grandma's, had gotten coverage Saturday to come visit me, & as mentioned, gotten coverage again Sunday to have a pregnancy melt down - which missing so much work would of course piss off her judgy gma. All this said, she is an addict, an albeit clean one, for several months, with no real home & a baby on the way.

We determined during our Sunday freak out that with the implant being in her as long as it was, an emergency doctor's appointment was the 1st thing to tackle. So using my called-out day off on Monday we went to the local poor person's hospital.

The initial estimation, just by the nurse feeling her belly, was 24 weeks. A LOT more than 16. Insert freakout #2. Next came the basic sonogram... Next estimation: 33 weeks. Holy fucking shit! Next came the measurements sonogram, which was quickly deemed necessary. Final verdict: 30 weeks & 1 day, 3 lbs, 3 oz, boy, due day MAY 12! We have 10 fucking weeks to make a plan!!!!

She's 7 months pregnant & never knew.

We finally took her back to her grandma's. She broke the news to her & they had their 1st real "yelling" fight ever. Gma was mostly pissed that M wouldn't be going thru with her CNA class. (Gma was a nurse all her life & has always wanted her granddaughter to follow in her footsteps, fervently.) But there JUST isn't TIME!

Gma told her she should give up this baby to the couple that adopted her 1st baby. Low goddamn blow. Told her she would be a waitress for the rest of her life. Wow... Just wow. We knew she would trip, but this was next level, low down & dirty.

I know she's 75 & thinks she's the wise old owl that knows all. But M has had 1 abortion, 1 miscarriage & one baby adopted out. She wants to keep this baby. And as crazy as it sounds, I'm 100% behind her decision. She's doing great in her sobriety & she's excited for this little baby boy. She deserves a family that supports her. I'm so fucking pissed at this woman (gma). I'm ready to dump her like the rest of my shitty family (she's my ex's mother)!

I was a single mom for a fucking long ass time, because HER POS son refused to step up. But by God I did it, & so can M.

To end this tale with the kicker of all kickers, being 30 weeks & 1 day pregnant, it was determined that she was pregnant when she got the birth control implant. But she wasn't far enough along to have a positive pregnancy test result. How's THAT for a kick in the pants?!

As one of the nurses today said, "Well, this baby was clearly meant to be." I'm taking her words to heart. There was something very wonderful bubbling inside me during this helluva 24 hours. THIS time I get to put my heart into this. THIS time I get to grow attached. THIS time I get to be a part of this beautiful baby boy's life. I'm going to be a grandma. Or "Jamma" (pronounced jammaw) as my daughter would have it. If M stays clean, this can be a glorious time in my life. But I have to state the obvious - if she doesn't stay clean, this could be my baby, because I'm not letting another one go. A somber, scary thought. But a thought I would set aside and make it work for the love of my new grandchild.

M's grandmother's hurtful words just make me want this baby more in our lives. Shame on her, but God bless us.

#addiction #heroin #sober living #sober #soberlife #soberliving #addict #baby #love #family #na #aa #miracles

[modernlifehistorian]

Monthly.

A/N: I wrote this knowing Jessica is coming back sometime after 1941, but I’m choosing to ignore that here. For personal reasons as well as for the story.

A week had passed since the time team had returned from 1941, and no one in the Silo had much reason to suspect that the dynamic had shifted between two of its members, or if they did, they kept their mouths shut. Long-paused tension came to a head for Lucy and Wyatt in Hollywood, and neither had any reservations about pursuing this blossoming relationship back in 2018. However there was some hesitation about announcing the change to the others because as Wyatt had learned over the past couple month, they really had no boundaries. But there was something especially thrilling to Wyatt about the sneaking around. For the first time since they entered this Cold War era hell hole, he didn’t dread waking up in the morning. He began every morning with a cup of coffee and a devious smile because while Rufus, Jiya, and Connor went to work on the Lifeboat, and Christopher dealt with keeping them supplied from the outside world, he would meet Lucy in the darkest corners they could find in the Silo and continue what they began over 75 years earlier. And for the first time in nearly a decade, he was happy, blissfully so. Although as Monday morning came without Lucy in the meeting spot they had agreed to the night before, Wyatt couldn’t help feeling like something was wrong. 

 “Morning, Wyatt,” Jiya greeted as he passed by the Lifeboat. 

 “Hey, Jiya,” Wyatt replied, his mind clearly elsewhere. “You seen Lucy this morning?”

 “Yeah, she was in the kitchen, doing some more Rittenhouse research,” the techie explained. “Although I’d be a little cautious. She kept tossing and turning last night and seemed a little off when she finally got up.” Wyatt felt knots start to tie in his stomach. What was wrong? Did I say something last night? Was she starting to second guess all of this? Wyatt feared the worst. Without another word to Jiya, he took off in the direction of the kitchen.

“They hooked up in 1941, didn’t they?” Jiya asked her boyfriend who was hard at work under the Lifeboat.

“Yep,” Rufus called. “Thought they were so discreet about it, too.” 

“About damn time,” Jiya chuckled.

Wyatt found Lucy just as Jiya had described her. Her brows were knit together, a frown was spread across her face, and the hand the wasn’t gripping the Rittenhouse files was going nuts on the outside of the half-empty coffee mug. Although it wasn’t coffee in the mug, he noticed. It was tea. Something he had learned about Lucy a long time ago was she only drank tea occasionally and when she needed to calm down. What had her so stressed?

 “Luce?” He approached her gently. “You okay?” She just let out a pitiful grunt and continued scanning the page. “Lucy?”

“What, Wyatt?” she snapped, shocking the soldier just a bit. “I’m clearly busy.” She gestured to the many papers and books scattered around the table. 

“You’re clearly something,” he quipped trying to lighten the mood, sitting down beside her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She demanded, dropping the files, her eyes piercing though him. Yeah, something was definitely off.

“Okay, Lucy,” Wyatt uttered. “Are you going to tell me where this shift of mood came from because I thought we had a pretty great time last night.” He gave her his signature smirk and reached for her hand, relieved when she didn’t pull away.She looked down into her lap for a minute before meeting his eyes again with the most pitiful look he’d ever seen. 

“My insides are dying,” she whimpered, dropping her forehead to the table. 

“Lucy, are you sick? What does that--” Oh. That kind of dying. “Oh, sweetheart,” he whispered, trying to hide the slight chuckle in his voice, scooting closer and running a soothing hand up and down her back. He was no stranger to dealing with a woman on her period, but already he could tell Period-Lucy was a completely different beast than what he had faced before. “What can I do?” 

“Get me more tea, or fuck off,” she growled, her face still hidden by the table and a curtain of her dark hair. He gave her hand a squeeze before picking up the mug, pouring its chilled contents in the sink, and starting another cup.

“Here you go, sweetheart,” he smiled, placing the cup next to her hand. “Can I stay now?” She lifted her head and glanced toward the steaming mug.

“If you don’t talk,” she grumbled, getting back to her reading. Wyatt sat there for a couple minutes, admiring her beauty… especially now with a bare face and a look of death in her eyes. 

 “You know in all the time we’ve--”

“What did I just say?!” she barked, throwing her hand up. 

 “I’ve never seen… this,” he gestured to her. “And it can’t be because it’s never happened when I’m around. So what’s got you so riled up this time?”

“You wanna know what’s got me riled up, Logan?” she began. “It’s because in this hell hole there is no midol, no heating pads, and believe it or not my birth control was not my mother’s top priority when kidnapping me, so I don’t have that either! So excuse me if my grumpiness while my uterus is being ripped apart is an inconvenience for you!” She slammed down the papers and left the kitchen area, leaving a stunned Wyatt to run after her.

“Lucy, hang on!” he pleaded as he chased her down the hall. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he apologized when he caught up to her about to enter her room. “I didn’t mean to sound so insensitive. You know better than most that I’m not the best when it comes to words.” He smiled when he got an agreement snort from her.

“Understatement,” she mumbled. “But continue.”

 “I want to help,” he explained, pulling her closer. “Please tell me what would make you feel better? I’ll do whatever I need to because unlike the rest of y’all, I’m not much use outside of our time jumps, so I’ve got the whole day free for you.”

“Can you just…” she began, but her voice faded. 

 “What?” he encouraged. “Name it.”

“Ugh it’s so stupid,” she admitted. “But could we just… go lay in your bed? I don’t want my nosey roommate walking in on us.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” he whispered, placing a gentle kiss on her warm forehead. “I don’t think that’s stupid at all.” He grabbed her hand and led her towards his room where his tiny cot lay waiting for them. He pulled down the covers and laid down first and then allowed her to get into whatever position she needed before pulling the covers up around her shoulders. She snuggled her back up against his chest and tucked her knees in then grabbing his hand and guiding it to rest just over her abdomen. 

 “If you could maybe just… press down right there,” she murmured, covering his hand with hers. “It’ll help take some of the pressure off.” He did exactly as she asked and her body relaxed almost instantly. “Thank you so much,” she moaned. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he smirked, kissing her temple. They lay there for a while curled together on his tiny cot. Everytime she started to squirm from a new round of pain, he would press his hand down a little harder, and it seemed to be quite effective. After an hour or so had passed, those cramps decreased their frequency before eventually stopping all together, and Lucy turned around to face him with a shy smile on her face. “Better?” he inquired.

“Much,” she grinned before looking away. “I’m sorry I turned into such a psycho. I just--”

“Shh,” he whispered, placing another kiss on her forehead. “You have-” He kissed her nose. “Nothing to be sorry for.” He placed a chaste kiss on her lips. “One day all this pain will pay off.” It took her a moment to decipher what he was trying to say, but when she figured it out, a beaming smile spread across her face. It had only been a week since they had finally allowed the tension between them to transform into something bigger, but here he was implying of a future. Their future. A future beyond the confines of a missile bunker. She wrapped her arms around him and met his lips with hers. He responded eagerly and  rolled them over so he was blanketing her body with his. His kiss blows away any residual pain she had been feeling, replacing it with a fluttering all through her stomach. It was a kiss so full of promises and hopes for the days when they finish all this time-traveling business. And they will finish it. Together. 

#Lyatt #lyatt fanfic

[threenorth]

7 years - one of the best day's of my life.

(I always thought it was July *insert dates* but since the occasion of the anniversary I had to look back at the photo in where the girl holds a weapon of a doctor and it read it said June...

- I've decided to make this now because the actual day will cripple me..)

(Edit: on June 1st ill send this... But not the actual date because i will be not online or responding.)

.

..

...

....

.....

......

Dear ,loml,Girl,Freind, Lauren,Rose

I had a mental break down on our third day in the cinema in where because I wanted to make you happy for the rest of your life, but i knew i wouldn't be able to so i left to the best of my ability to get out of your life because i knew that i would probably be the reason you never are as happy as I've always wanted you to be....

In the movie(tfios) tjis was reinforced i relaized within all disillusions of reality in my terrible mental state of mind that the only way hazel grace gor her happyness Augusts had to not be in her picture anymore.

i will have to let you go completely and it's gonna be extremely difficult for me to do that as you were and still are the girl i thought id marry and spend the rest of my life with... But the times they are changin' *blows a humonaca * Remember me to one who lives there... She once was a true love of mine.

So i decided it was for the best to cutt the ropes to the reinforced bridge and let it collapse under it's own weight and oh man it was an ugly and it hurt to watch it implode but it had to, i wasn't doing any better within my fight but i was about to be knocked down more than I could ever realise.

Maybe i can work on myself and try this therapy thing but they only told me i was depressed and there wasn't enough criteria to help with my other issues that i know was wrecking my life...

I was hoping you would stick around but i forced you away, i didn't want to hurt you as my demons were eating my mind that's the last thing i would want is to hurt you ever in anyway shape or form...

I wished everyday to hold you in my arms like the days previously so i hugged my pillow and cried till there wasnt any tears...

i don't like touch expect handshakes

I never even liked kissing my girlfriend's in person but you made me want to feel every inch bump and scar every little last part of you because you made me fit back together with one hug...and I've never felt so alive...

We never got to look under the stars by a camp fire with smores all cuddled up in a sleeping bag watching stars on your roof but you would of told me stories of the universe...

I would of told you how when i look to the stars i see the same beauty as you... those stars still do that.

I would of hoped you would of told me your life story that i never wanted to know because i knew it was rough, maybe you might of seen why i never spoke about mine in fear of traumatising you...

One day when dying your hair You asked me if i liked i blonde hair or black hair i didn't care as long as you were happy but I remember saying something like but your gonna have to dye your hair as i thought it was naturally black and you corrected me to say you were a natural blonde.. I could see you in your long blonde hair down to the knees and smile loaded to kill and that it does now, you would of had some books in hand on the way to your writers den log cabin the back woods of Washington or Oregon woods with a fireplace to make tea and write the book you wanted to make and i hope you write still... I stopped because it hurt to much.

Your smile even in black hair made me feel like this life was worth living and with a it cutt deeper -*sentence reacted*- then *redacted*

I waited years for my next trip to America and the day i would break news to you that i was coming and more so to co and i hoped it would be one day but i got three and i am forever grateful.

I remember hiding behide the door because I wanted to surprise you, and man you jumped through the roof then suffocated me with arms and played with my hair no one has ever done anything remotely close to that ever since as i want to keep my distance with everyone... Three days later i had to go to ohio ugh midwest family trump voters, the door was open and i didn't have time to knock i just had to go we had an hour before the flight and i was granted 5 minutes i had and would of hoped you would of known my voice i called out, i hadn't relaized with my undiagnosed autsim i caused you a panic attack and I'm truly sorry i caused you pain in anyway as you told me a year later and i was truly shocked my fear of hurting you had happened and even when i thought it was safe to rebuild a bridge it wasn't because i knew i couldn't control my actions... I was unstable and i had to leave again.

Back to the 5 mins on day 4 I told you i had to go but i never said goodbye Because to me it wasn't goodbye it was till we meet again... I was hoping shortly in the sense but i knew it might be awhile longer but not 7 fucking- *reacted*

I gave you the gifts i wanted on the first day but it was better to wait...

I gave you chocolate to remember the sweet taste of life.

I gave my favourite t-shirt to snuggle even with a dot of blood from my shaved face for those conservtives in the Midwest.

I gave you the weapon of the doctor to keep you safe when i couldn't be there.

I gave you an anchor necklaces to remind you that you calm the seas that are rough, and you wore it to your home coming with your blue prom dress oh man you were the girl id take to my ball/prom/home coming dance that's why i never attended mine.

I gave you a hallowed book to well at the time ultimately keep secrets in the library of old books and i was hoping it was big enough for the sonic screw driver but ultimately it would hold whatever secrets the girl wished to hide.

I gave you tea to help keep you warm and calm on those lonely bitter cold winter days, the lemon grass and ginger warms the soul and cleans.

I remember in my last turn away the hazel eye's of a girl and i saw the universe, i saw her long blonde hair and i want to make into French braids I don't know how to braid but I'd learn anything if you asked me to within reason... Because i have a few disabilities but I would try to do what ever i had to... In 2013 with my time to heal i was told to make some goals for my life...and here is some of them...

* go to college and get a degree (I spent 3 years working and trying to figure out what to do and 3 years doing it achieving this in 2018*)

* get a good job (*i got this this year because in 2019 i was diagnosed with high functioning autism and it made me spiral into doom where everything that happened to me made sense like why the kids use to call me Sheldon Cooper)

I just wanted a girl not any other girl but the girl who I found through a mutual tumblr and my word... 2012 what a year...

I have very few things left on this list and I have to make peace with that and i don't like looking up at the stars anymore but i know your on the other side of the world looking at the *more or less/slightly different* same stars.

I have a tattoo planned for you but I don't want you to know what one is you but I'm sure you're know.

You always had a way to see right through me so my re-creation my look of style was born from your vision for me with the twist of capt was my favourite avengure hes super human nothing more then enhancing his ability. I just tried to be a good man and ultimately I don't want you to feel bad for anything because your already as cute as i wanted you to become and now it's my turn to evolve and since working

I've been able to I must work out at the gym i must go to uncomfortable places,deal to my own problems one at a time little by little and i would hope by the time you read this I'm on new meds for my issues and funny how money can't buy happiness but it can buy me temporary relief but when I return whenever that is... if you are still out there wherever you are i want you to know i that.... live your life and you told me you don't want nothing to do with me so i will go my separate way, but i will always be here for you...

I thought id reach a few weeks ago because I had my first time went manic in 3 years but I couldn't control it i was stuck in mania for two weeks i tried tell you but I said things i never I asked the answers to things racing through my head... Amd now i have to live with the answers i feared and I alreday knew to be true i didn't want to know it i wanted to keep my dreams of being with you one last time this time the right time and you could of seen the man i wish i was, I'm just stuck in the middle of all these things...

Ultimately i want you to know that no matter what comes my way I've keep breathing I've never self harmed since promising you and my biggest trial is yet to start and your words haunt me but they must be the only words in my brain that aren't mine that i know aren't mine and I tried to keep my tabs on you to make sure that you were okay i didn't know if you would ever want to hear from me as the last thing i herd was i give you panic attacks and axiterty and now you give me panic attacks and axiterty.... I don't worry about them because you mean so much to me and don't worry about me I'll be okay eventually I'm in my final stages of evolution and I'm just a tad slow to catchup...

I've recently found out i have extremely flat feet that's why i gave up sports and couldn't run very far without pain and now i glasses to see clearly with an eye stigisim in where the over bearing load of one eye being more powerful has thrown my body... It is only the beginning finally and ultimately not the end but a beginning.

I'm sorry it's taken me so long to try get back to reality... It just so happens all my medical conditions from birth really fucked up my mental health.

I'm glad you are free and happy... I ju-*redacted*

If you ev-*redacted*

I'm *redacted*

I've been stuck in space for to long and now I'm grounded I'm trying to repair our friendship...

Edit 3: I've been referred to the hospital, it would appear that i was depressing myself to cope to turn my brain off from reailty and with my truma of bullying for years at schooling that ultimately fucked me over as when trying to revist reality causes me to be manic and psychosis with visual hulusnate....i had asthma and so i could never get deep enough breaths to recenter myself during axiterty attacks and i stopped taking them because i didn't need them for fitness but i needed them for my panjc attacks that then led to my depression that i didn't take my medications for just breathing fucking air.

It's funny how everything has intertwined it's self into my life of old...and my new live...

A girl that isn't the same person i once knew said You have to be brave enough to get your diagnosis, I'm scared but i know that i must.

I'll be o -

I'll be okay...

*tears*

I wish i knew all my issues sooner before they come back haunt me but i never had all the answers and now i do...

7 years on from... (because i know the date... *the day we...)

I'm burning a sun to say goodbye.

I finally can say goodbye to you. If not in person but the only way I can.

This isn't a suicide letter.

I'm sorry

I *redacted*

I don't *redacted*

Don't *redacted*

..

Yours

Always Charlie,the Beautiful Mind,

RlF

Personal Sidenote;

I would of mailed a letter but I have no address.

I would of called but i never got a phone number.

Burn after reading...

i might write you a letter sometime again but I haven't decided when to as this is something I've wanted to do for years but didn't know what I'd say to you without hurting either of us.

[neeeruh]

Thursday, February 18, 2021

Hi, let me tell you how I’m feeling right now. My back hurts, like always. Mylips are chapped and it’s annoying. I have cramps because I’m on my period. So because of my period I’m craving something sweet but I don’t know what I want. I’m conflicted. Then this morning I couldn’t get out of my drive way because my car was still under a lot of snow. I went to target and I couldn’t find parking because of the damn snow. So I decided to go to Starbucks to get coffee.. the negativity doesn’t end there.. so I’m sitting in the Starbucks parking lot trying to open the Starbucks app, my phone was at 20% mind you. All of a sudden it turns off.. completely. Oh no you don’t bitch you’re gonna turn back on! I hold the power button and it only took like 10 minutes to finally turn on. Then it tells me it’s at 7%. Fuck you Apple for ducking with my battery and trying to make me buy a new phone. I’m still on the 6s+. Anyway, my phone finally turns on, I click on the Starbucks app and it has the audacity to ask me for my password. It completely signed me out.. I don’t remember my password wtf?! Luckily I had finger print ID to log back in, but at that point I was in the parking lot for a good 20 mins. And I know you’re asking yourself “why didn’t you just go inside to order your drink” with Covid I don’t feel comfortable being in there too long, I usually mobile order and dip. So that’s what I did finally and 4 minutes later I get my drink. FINALLY. Go back to target, got what I needed and a few other things cuz you don���t walk into target and not tear yourself. Went home aaaaaaand cooked. That was my morning. The rest of my day wasn’t too bad. Daniel came over and we watched tiktoks until we pissed our pants from laughing so hard.

That was a long intro. So I wrote in a journal already about a few things and I guess I’ll go into detail here. This feels a lot better than writing though I will say that much. Writing made my hand cramp. Shits painful. In that journal the last time I wrote, was in January of 2019. I wrote that I had just gotten into a relationship and that I was happy. That I would also keep myself posted.. which I never did, for 2 years. We’re in 2021 and I haven’t wrote anything since. So I’ll do it today! I’m sure I’ve wrote about it here. Some specific events but I won’t go into much detail.

The year 2019, Daniel and I had already been dating for about a month. We made things official in December of 2018. As I said in my journal, 2019 feels like a glimps into our future. I say this because of the way Daniel treats me. He’s always trying to do everything for me, quite frankly I’m not used to that. I usually never expect anything from anyone because I usually do everything myself. I’m very independent. I rarely ask for favor. He treats me like a queen, and I know every girl says that. But I mean he actually does, he won’t let me do anything. He won’t even let me help him. Which is annoying because I try to do things for him and he won’t let me. That’s another story. He’s also very good at putting himself in my shoes. He tries to see everything in my eyes. Whenever he’s about to make a decision about anything he tried to see it through my eyes and how I would feel about it. He’s very kind and he wears his heart on his sleeve. So basically he’s perfect, and I can see me sharing the rest of my life with him. Even though things are rocky right now. I’m trying.

In 2020, the year started out fine. People were getting sick left and right, no one knew why or what it was. I myself got sick early January. I had never experienced the flu before so I assumed that’s what I had. It was the first time I had called off work for being sick. I felt terrible. February comes around and there’s talk on the news about a virus in China that has started to spread all over and of course here in America no one takes anything seriously. We all have inflated egos and we’re better than anyone else. There’s no way we’ll get sick. Mind you, I got sick in January, right after a coworker of mine came back from Europe. She was sick too.. worse than I was. Then in March, the world goes into panic and businesses start closing, kids stop going to school, shelves in stores are empty of toilet paper. Everyone was afraid.. I mean I was too. I still went to work though, every single day. There was a time where I was the only teller that showed up. It was only me. But I took charge I showed up everyday and I never complained. And with everything going on I never showed how stressed out I was. Little did I know this was affecting my mental health. I kept myself calm and cool not showing any emotion. Around this point my birth control was also making me emotional and sometimes depressed. And with the stress of the virus, Daniel because afraid too. But with him it was a lot easier to see the fear in his eyes. He grew more anxious day by day. So without realizing my out my feelings to the side and chose to help him instead. Just like how I did with work. They needed me. 2020 was just the beginning.

With everything happening in 2020 with the virus, Black Lives Matter, ect. At some point my mental health was declining. My self worth as well. I stopped caring about myself. I worried about everyone else. A coworker that I held close and dear to my heart, her mother passes away. And with that I was a mess. I came to the realization that I wasn’t close to those people anymore. Not to her or anyone that worked there. They were family to me and then they weren’t anymore. And it broke me. I felt replaced. For a split second it felt that way with Daniel too. The communication wasn’t there and I felt casted out. At that moment, everything went down hill. Towards the end of 2020, I didn’t know how to cope. I found myself crying more and more often. I was more emotional than usual. Daniel didn’t know how to help me. And because of that he felt disconnected with me. Maybe because he felt like he couldn’t help me that he wasn’t good enough for me. But I’m reality, I’ve always just had to deal with my pain by myself. I never needed or wanted the help from anyone else. Or maybe I don’t know how to ask for it? Or maybe it’s me being independent again. Not expecting anything from anyone.

2021, made me realize I’m human and not superwoman. I have a brain and I have to take care of it. I need to find a better way to cope. I also need to be selfish too. I can’t always take care of everyone else. I can’t push myself to the side and only aid others. I’ve still been crying more than normal. I’ve been in a negative head space. So I decided to pick up writing again to help me deal with everything that’s going on. Also to help me express myself. Daniel can’t read my mind like I do his. I guess I have that good of a poker face. I’m horrible at expressing emotion. I actually never used to cry until I went on birth control. Maybe that’s something I need to do to help me. Get off birth control. Anyway, my had is numb. And it’s late. I should probably go to sleep. Good night.

[inakua]

Unexpected

Request: In a world where Voldemort won, and people die on the daily, a rag-tag group of teens could change the fate of the war. Follow Dom Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy - squibs - and their best friends Rose Weasley and Kieron Zabini as they team up with the Muggle Resistance to bring down the Death Eaters once and for all.

Warnings: Blood, Swearing, Weapons (knives, guns etc), Death, Serious Injury, Violence, Bad Parent Relationship, Slurs, Bodies/Corpses, Hostages, Murder, Warfare. (I will always try and tag as many warnings as I can think of for each writing, if you read through and find something that I haven’t listed which may be a trigger for someone please send me an ask or DM me so that I can add it to this list, thanks!)

Pairings: N/A

Words: 3,973

A/N: Okay so this is an extract of a new fic that I’m working on, it will be called Unexpected, and probably won’t be posted on fanfic.net for a while but I just wanted to give you guys a brief taster :) Hope you enjoy, don’t forget to let me know what you think in the replies or when you reblog!

REQUEST A ONESHOT HERE

We've been here for 2 years now; me and Scor. Not much has changed, we're still best friends, still squibs and the war is still controlling our lives. Uncle Harry never won on the eve of the 2nd May 1998, they did. His side, the death eaters. It's been 20 years since the battle of Hogwarts.

20 years since Voldemort won.

20 years since all hell broke loose.

Families turned against one another, mother against daughter, father against son. The muggles didn't stand a chance once Voldemort took control, many tried to flee, some tried to fight but the majority were captured in the mayhem. Me and Scor were born in the midst of it all. Both into two completely different lives.

Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, son of Draco Malfoy - Voldemorts right hand man - and the late Astoria Malfoy nee Greengrass was born on the 12th November 2002.  

Me? I'm Dominique Aveline Weasley, but everyone calls me Dom. I was born on the 19th January 2003 to worldclass asshole and half-veela, Fleur Delacour. My father, Bill Weasley, passed away just two years ago. 

We're similar like that, me and Scor, both of us have lost the one thing we held most dear; a loving parent.

When my mother found out I was a squib, she wanted nothing to do with me. The love she once had for me quickly turned into hatred. She was angry at my father, blaming him for my 'condition'. No daughter of hers was going to be a squib. Everyday I was ridiculed, blamed for the countless mistakes others would make, she concentrated all of her anger towards me and it quickly became too much.

In the end the only people I had left were my father, Rose and Victoire. On the 6th March 2018, my father went on a solo mission, the order needed information on a rogue death eater and he volunteered.

He never came back. 

The whole family was a wreck for days and it wasn't long before my mother started shoving the blame on me again. I decided that enough was enough, and took matters into my own hands. 

That's when it all started, when everything changed. 

That's when I met Scorpius.

****************************** "e eez dead and eet is all your fault! I loved eem and now e is gone, taken from me." 

Fleur was hysterical, people tried to stop her but to no avail.  She'd been screaming at me for the past hour. Blaming me for my fathers death, shouting profanities at me at the top of her lungs. I'd tolerated her up until now but the anger was starting to get the better of me. I couldn't stand here and take her shit any longer, my anger was flaring, I could feel it building up.

"My fault? How the fuck is this my fault?" I screamed, rendering Fleur speechless.

"Stop accusing me of something that was out of my control. I'm just as devastated as you Fleur, I love him more than words can describe, but you don't see me taking it out on anyone. It's not my fault that dad is dead, it's not my fault you hate me and it's not my fault that I'm a squib. When will you stop putting the blame for everything on me? I've had enough of you treating me like I'm nothing. I can't deal with you acting like this 24/7!" 

I could see Rose move into my line of vision, her hand reached out and grabbed my shoulder, forcing me to turn and look at her. My family were stood behind her, shock evident on their faces.

"Dom calm down, she's not worth it." Rose whispered in my ear. I could tell she was trying to help but I was fed up of everyone pretending that Fleur was this perfect angel. I was fed up with everyone assuming that she'd never hurt me, that she loved me as a mother is supposed to love her children. They needed to know the truth; they needed to know now.

"No Rose! They need to hear this," I hissed back at her through clenched teeth. I turned back to face Fleur. She'd turned as white as a ghost, time to let my Weasley temper loose.

"Did you really think they wouldn't find out eventually? Did you honestly believe I was going to let you get away with the pain you've caused me over these past couple of years. You've blamed me for everything that has gone wrong in this family, you taunt me and call me names. I'm your daughter you're supposed to be there for me, you're supposed to love me unconditionally. Instead you hate me, you hate me for something that I have no control over, do you think it's been easy for me? Do you think it's been easy living with the knowledge that my own mother hates me, that she hates me enough to blame my own fathers death on me? Dad and Rose were the only ones there for me, they were the only ones who stood up for me when you treated me like shit. I know how much you hate me, dad knew how much you hate me. Hell even Vic can see how much hatred you have towards me, everyone else may be oblivious but I know better and I'm not putting up with it anymore. I'm through with your bullshit Fleur. I'm done." 

I was filled with joy at the sight of Fleur cowering in front of me. I could see the guilt consuming her from within, with the pleasure of knowing that she felt guilty I stormed up to my room. Grabbed my bag and started shoving everything I could find into it.

I heard the door slam behind me and felt Rose put a hand on my shoulder, she knew what we had to do, we'd talked about this on many occasions. We had a plan, the only problem was if it would work.

"Vic was coming up the stairs behind me, she'll be up in a minute," Rose said, reaching into the pocket of her jeans to fetch her wand. She quickly shrunk my case and slipped it into her back pocket. Before Victoire could make it up to my bedroom, I pulled open my bed side drawer and stuffed the knife my dad had given me before he left in my pocket. Rose eyed me as if I was crazy.

"How else am I going to defend myself?" I told her, she shrugged before moving her eyes towards the door, anticipating Victoires entrance. 

She knew I was right, I'm a squib, it was the only defence I had. Victoire stormed into the room, her eyes red and puffy as she walked over to me, pulling me into a bear hug.

"Do you have to go?" She whispered in my ear, her voice raw and scratchy as she talked. I felt my heart break as tears splashed onto my shoulder. I loved my sister so much, I didn't want to leave her but it was for the best. I didn't belong here, not any more.

"You know I do Vic, I'm so sorry." My voice was filled with regret, she may be the older sister but she definitely wasn't the stronger one. 

She didn't like disobeying anyone and breaking the rules made her shudder; literally. She depended on me just as much as I depended on her. Victoire hadn't always been like this, she was just as feisty as me, up until about a year ago. 

Teddy Lupin was called out on a mission about a year ago, he never came back. He'd been Victoires friend since birth and about 4 years ago, they began dating. Many suspected him dead, but Vic refused to believe it, she'd kept her hopes up for a couple of months after his disappearance but eventually she had to face reality, he was gone. She was never the same after that, always following orders and never standing up for herself. It pained me to see her like it, but no matter how hard I tried she carried on wondering about like a little lost puppy.

"I love you Dom," Victoire wailed as I held her tighter, not saying a word, in fear that the tears gathering in my eyes would spill. She'd barely calmed down before clambering off me and hurtling herself towards Rose. 

"You know I love you too Rosie, I'll miss you!" 

"Love you too Vic," Rose replied, finding it just as hard as myself to fight back the tears forming in her eyes. 

"We have to make a move though, we don't want any one to notice our absence." Rose replied regretfully.

Victoire stepped back and watched us as we made our way to the window, Rose climbed out first, making her way down the pipe. I turned towards Vic before I left.

"Look after Louis for me," I whispered, before taking one last look at my sister and following Rose down the pipes. 

We ran as fast as we could, if the family found out that we'd gone before we reached the wards then we'd never escape. 

We stopped at the edge of the land, just before the wards. Rose pulled out her wand and began breaking a section of the wards so that we could get through and onto the other side. 

I turned around, looking at the building I was supposed to call home, but staring at it now, I realised that it had never been my home. It was more of a prison, somewhere that I couldn't escape, and I never wanted to see it ever again.

"I'm done. Hurry up Dom, we've only got a couple of seconds before the wards are put back up," Rose cried urgently, racing through the gap in the wards and pulling me with her, we made it onto the other side just as the wards went back up. All I could see now was the beach, the house I've lived in all my life wasn't in sight, and I could’ve never felt more ecstatic.

"We did it Rose, we actually did it," I cried in triumph, Rose jumped into my arms unexpectedly and I spun her around, crying with happiness. We stayed like this for a couple more minutes, just sobbing on each other, we managed to escape and it was the best moment of my life. I had no doubt in my mind that Rose was thinking the exact same thing, even though Rose was a wizard she still hated that place. 

When she was a baby her parents, Hermione Granger-Weasley and Ron Weasley, were caught in an attack by death eaters who were trying to kill Uncle Harry. They died protecting their best friend, leaving an 8 month old Rose orphaned. While she was still young, Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny looked after her but when she got older and they started having kids of their own, she was moved around between relatives. At the age of 11, my father decided that she could live with us permanently. By that time, Fleur knew that I was a squib, Rose stood by me and in return was hated by Fleur, she hated Rose just as much as she hated me.

"We should probably start moving," I told Rose, untangling myself from her embrace, "We don't want them to come after us."

"Not that they would bother," Rose said scornfully, picking up her wand that had fallen out of her pocket.

"Not that they would bother," I agreed. 

We made our way along the beach, eventually reaching  the woods surrounding the nearby village. We had to make sure that we were far enough away from the house before putting our plan into action.

"Over here," Rose called, we were looking for a good place to sit, where we were out of sight and not too close to civilisation. Nowhere was safe anymore, so we had to be alert. 

I made my way over to Rose, following her through some dense undergrowth and finally turning up in a small clearing by a stream. We were surrounded by trees and bushes, nobody would be able to find us here.

"We need to apparate to a little village just outside of Oxford, it's called Aston. I overheard the adults talking about it a couple of months ago, it's meant to be a safe haven for witches, wizards and muggles alike. The Death Eaters haven't attacked it yet so we should be safe," I told Rose, she nodded along. 

"I don't know what it looks like, how am I going to apparate us there?" she asked.

"Surely you don't think I expect you to apparate without knowing where we're going," I told her.

"Of course not but how am I going to know what It looks like?" She asked, obviously thinking I was stupid for bringing this up. I rolled my eyes at her lack of confidence in me, I tossed a small piece of paper at her, that I'd retrieved from my back pocket. She looked at it, realisation burning in her eyes.

"How did you get this?" She asked, holding up the picture I had of an alleyway in Aston.

"I stole it," I told her, "The adults were all talking in Uncle Harrys office about an apparation spot and he gave everyone a picture of it, just in case they needed to apparate somewhere in an emergency. I waited for them to leave and took one from Uncle Harrys' desk," I said proudly.

"You sneaky little bastard," she said, her eyes crinkling in amusement as she smiled at me.

"Why thank you," I said, bowing in appreciation, "I pride myself in that area of expertise."

"But, seriously, do you think this could work?" Rose asked, after slapping Dom playfully for her sarcasm.

"I'm not sure, but what do we have to lose by trying it?" I told her, hoping she'd agree with my plan.

"Oh I don't know," she said sarcastically," only a couple of limbs if we splinch ourselves."

"Come on Rosie, It's our only option. If we don't do this then we'll be living in this forest for the rest of our lives. I don't know about you but I'd rather spend my life back at that house than in this woods forever," I knew I was exaggerating but I really wanted to get away from this place.

"Fine." Rose snapped, giving up, "We'll apparate there."

"Thanks Rosie."

"Hurry up, I want to get out of this forest," Rose told me, studying the picture carefully and grabbing a hold of my hand. I felt the pull of apparation and before we knew it we were in the alleyway.

"I did it!" Rose whooped, punching her hand in the air. I clasped my hand over her mouth. Something was wrong.

"Stay here," I whispered to her, creeping down the alleyway and peeking round the corner. Nobody was there, where was everyone?

"Dom, I think you should come and see this," Rose called me, I turned to see what Rose was talking about. She was white as a ghost, her hands were shaking and she was pointing to the other end of the alley. 

I walked over to the other end, Rose following closely behind me, and gasped at the sight in front of me. 

Blood. So much blood, I stared at it with fear. How could they have not noticed before? People were running around frantically, screaming for those they'd lost. Death Eaters were everywhere, those who couldn't defend themselves perished. Sparks of colour were flying everywhere, people were dying. This was meant to be a safe haven, what was happening? 

"Dom, I can't -" Rose began but was cut of when she let out a strangled cry. I turned to see what she was looking at, a death eater was rounding up children, the youngest could've been only 4. 

He raised his wand, Dom could just make out what he was saying.

"Avada Kedavra"

A spark of green left his wand, hitting one of the girls square in the chest.

"No!" I screamed, watching as the girls body fell to the floor, her eyes were vacant, distant. The death eater laughed as her body hit the cold stones with a thump. I couldn't take it, I was filled with an indescribable surge of fury. 

Reaching into my back pocket I grabbed the knife, my fingers curling around the handle menacingly.

"Stay here." I barked at Rose, before charging out into the street, towards the death eater. 

I dodged spells that came flying in my direction, it was as if I'd been doing it for years. My eyes burnt with anger and my skin prickled, with what? Fear. Sadness. Anger. I couldn't be sure but it wasn't going away. 

I reached the death eater without any harm, he'd already killed another child, a boy this time. He had sandy blonde hair, and what were once baby blue eyes. He reminded me of Louis - my little brother.

The death eater raised his wand, preparing to kill another. Without thinking about what I was doing I ran up behind him and plunged my knife into his back.

He stopped, frozen. 

He turned around to face me, obviously not expecting such a hands on attack. why would he, when everyone else was using wands.

"What -" he never got to finish, because I pushed him harshly onto the cobbled street. His blood pooling around him, staining the stones red. 

"What - What are you - do - doing?" He asked, his face overcome with shock and pain.

"I just came here to kill you. No harm done," I hissed violently. I'd killed before, growing up in a world where Voldemort ruled and around every turn someone was more than willing to kill you, you had to make sure that you could defend yourself. Dad taught me self defence since the age of 8. I'd only killed two people, both Death Eaters, when they tried to attack me and some other members of the family while we we're taking supplies.

I watched as he took his last breath, his body turning pale, his eyes clouding over. I reached towards him, pulling my knife from his back.

I was just about to turn around and help the kids when a hot pink light hurdled towards one of the kids. I flung myself in front of the spell and hissed in agony as a deep gash was carved across my stomach. 

Just as I was about to get up I saw another spell flying in my direction, I ducked just in time and the spell hit a building above, sending bricks and debris flying everywhere. Luckily, nobody was hit. I turned around only to come face to face with a wand. There in front of me was a Death Eater, his wand pointed directly at my face.

"Hello there sweetheart," He sneered, luckily he hadn't noticed that I'd just clutched my knife in my hand, I was at the advantage.

"Hello to you to," I said innocently, as I drove my knife into his throat. 

The Death Eater fell and I was finally able to focus my attention on the group of children, they were all looking at me in shock. Some of them looked really scared but who could blame them, they'd just seen two other children die, me kill two men and get hit by a severing charm.

"Please, don't be scared," I tried to tell them, it wasn't very reassuring when I was covered in blood and had just stabbed someone in front of them. I looked over to the alleyway, to check if Rose was still there. She was watching, her eyes wide. I turned back to the children, I had to keep them safe.

"Please, come with me. I'll keep you safe," I tried pleading with them. Eventually, one of the elder ones walked over to her.

"Wh - why did you ki - kill them?" She stuttered.

"They were going to kill you, I couldn't stand by and watch you get hurt," I told her truthfully. The little girl nodded in acceptance before turning to the little group of 7.

"It's okay, she'll keep us safe," She told them, they seemed to listen to her and all of them looked up at me to see what they had to do.

"Follow me," I told them, I walked next to the group of children, hoping nobody would fire at them. Everybody seemed focused on their own battles and we had just made it to the entrance of the alley way when the girl who talked to me earlier screamed. I turned to see that a death eater had grabbed a hold of her and was pointing his wand to her head. 

"Let go of her," I hissed. Rose was behind me in the alley motioning all of the other kids to get behind her.

"You killed Goyle," he said, looking over to the body on the other side of the street.

I grinned, so it was his friend that I killed. Good. 

While he was distracted I ran towards him, he was only a meter or so in front of me, so he didn't have enough time to react. I stabbed my knife into his shoulder, he cried out in pain, I quickly pulled the knife back out and in the process he dropped the girl.

"Go," I shouted at her, pointing towards the alley way. She ran off towards Rose and the death eaters eyes turned on me, he was pissed. Great. 

"Sectumsempra," He shouted at me, a jet of light shot out from his wand and I jumped out the way, narrowly missing the curse as it went into the wall of a building, sending bricks flying everywhere. A piece of the wall hit my shoulder and I cried out in pain as I felt it embed itself in my flesh. 

The death eater was hit as well, he seemed to have been hit with more brick than me though, so I ran towards him, my knife out in front of me and aimed for his throat. I'd barely left a scratch when his fist came pummelling through the air, landing a punch on my jaw. 

I crashed to the floor and watched as he advanced on me, his wand out in front of him. In one final attempt to kill him, I threw my knife towards him. Before he could move out the way, it hit him in the side of the stomach and I grimaced in victory. It didn't deter him though, he was weaker but he could just about walk. He hobbled towards me.

"You stupid Muggle Bitch," He shouted at me, he thought I was a muggle? I did attack him with a knife and technically I am a muggle but with magical relatives. 

"You don't mess with Vincent Crabbe and live to tell the tale," he sneered at me, lifting his wand and aiming it at my face.

"Avada Ke-" He was dead before the gunshot reached my ears. The grip Crabbe had on his wand disappeared and I watched as it fell from his hand and clattered to the ground. I stood up, trying to ignore the pain my body was in. I walked over to Crabbe, rolled him over and pulled my knife out his abdomen. The man who shot Crabbe walked up to me, I looked around, the death eaters had gone. Some were dead on the floor and many were being killed. I stared at the man who was now in front of me, he offered me his hand.

"Scorpius Malfoy," He said, shaking my hand, I shook back and replied.

"Dominique Weasley."

#hp #dominique weasley #scorpius malfoy #rose weasley #weasley #malfoy #oneshot #hp oneshot #mine #my oneshot #next gen #next generation #next gen era #hp next gen #vincent crabbe #gregory goyle #crabbe #goyle #fleur delacour #dealcour #victoire weasley

[dieuleveut]

April 14th, 2018

I’m in Los Angeles.

I’ve been here since February 10th. So...a little over two months? People here still consider me new and fresh, and they’re not wrong. I’ve been doing a pretty great job at learning the new geography, all the neighborhoods and freeways.

Let me update you.

I’ve been living with Jordon who went to Bradley University with me. But I’ve been sleeping on an air mattress in his living room. Totally fine, I’m pretty low-maintenance anyway. Except I had told him I did not plan on crashing in his living for any longer than a month and up until now it had been over two months. Cue liar-anxiety. Then we find out that his roommate Drake will be moving in with his girlfriend in May/June and that his room may be up for grabs. I’m super interested and thus I’m staying in this living room, hoping to squat and slide into Drake’s room. Now, Jordon tells me he has a friend from high school who is moving to LA in June that he prefers to live with. Totally fine. Cue apartment-hunting anxiety again.

Now, my work situation. I moved here to do production work, but it doesn’t pay the bills (yet), so I got hired as a server at Tatsu Ramen at the end of February. The pay is pretty darn good. $13/hr and tips are about 1/3rd times the pay and I’m working close to full time. Insurance once I’ve hit 3 months. Almost everybody is really fun and sweet. Emily is the second newest hire and probably someone I can consider a friend (the first I’ve made in LA outside of Jordon!) She let me crash on her couch after a sleep deprived night and Jordon was hosting a loud brunch party. Vince is someone I would recently consider a friend! We’ve been hanging out quite a bit this past weekend and he’s a pleasant person to do stuff with! Sadly, he’s moving to New York City later this week so it kinda explains the accelerated friendship fun.

He came out drinking with me at some bougie place called The Bungalow that charged $15 for a margarita and $9 for a PBR. Emily met up with us after she got off of work and arrived at 1:30am, which apparently is when LA bars decide to close and stop serving alcohol. So slightly drunk Vince and me and stone-cold sober Emily walk down to Santa Monica beach, because I’m drunk and I hadn’t been to the beach in the two months I’ve been in LA. It was pitch black, sand cold as fuck. Vince and I (separately) break the pee seal in the sand dunes. Public urination FTW. We continue walking towards the ocean, I walk ahead of them in a drunk euphoria. I fucking love the ocean. I kick off my shoes and feel the wet, stiff sand under my feet. I only go ankle deep into the water but I’m content. Behind us, it seems like we’re not the only people in the entirety of Los Angeles who like to come to the beach at night. But it’s dark and the lights of the pier make them into indiscernible shadows. The lights also reflected off of the wet sand, like an upside down world mirrored from the pier. I’m wearing Vince’s denim jacket, barefoot and impossibly happy. My friends are taking pictures, laughing and playing in the water. I hope they were as I happy as I was.

Today, we had plans to head to Manhattan Beach. However, Emily backed out, still feeling the after effects of last night. I showered, got dressed. If anything, I would go alone. I don’t mind doing things on my own. It’s a common theme in my life. Then Vince texts me back saying he’s down. I drive to his place and the sweet man brings out a bottle of water for each of us and recommends we eat at a place nearby called The Public School. It’s cute and school themed, though I spent most of my life trying to avoid school themed things. Before meeting up with Vince, I was honestly nervous hanging out one-on-one with him. I just didn’t know who or what to expect outside of the comfort zone of Tatsu or drinking as a social buffer. And to my surprise, he’s actually really easy to hang out with. I don’t feel a need to impress him and yet I feel like I do. Conversation isn’t forced, it in fact flows really smoothly. And we don’t even crutch on Tatsu talk. We talk about hobbies, thoughts on LA and New York, families. Actually. Now that I think about it, we talked a lot about me. Vince and I are going to the Getty Center Museum tomorrow afternoon. I need to remind myself to ask Vince about himself more.

We also went to the Museum of Jurassic Technology yesterday too! That was fucking weird. But mutually agreed the best $8 spent. Cheaper than a can of PBR. They had such weird artifacts...and facts. Miniature models of mobile homes, paintings of the Russian dogs sent to space, a garden with tea and doves. “I can not think of a better person to have done this with,” Vince concluded after we exited (I only mention this part verbatim because people? like? hanging out with me?). We were supposed to finally hit up Manhattan Beach at this point, but I had an appointment to drop off my new apartment deposit and rent so we agreed to take a short intermission as I dropped him off to his apartment.

I arrive at my new apartment, which is located in a beautiful little family neighborhood. It seems like it has great air and it’s quiet. I would be absolutely ecstatic to be moving into this place if it weren’t a 45 minute commute on my way to work. I guess it balances out the 15 minute commute on my way back from work at 3:00am. And it makes me feel a little better that my roommate Hillary would be commuting over an hour. The apartment itself is super spacious and has beautiful hardwood floors and appliances.

We drop off the checks, go through the inspection and we plan on moving in tomorrow. Luckily, I only have the things that I can pack into my car, so I don’t have much to move. Except that Vince is giving me his mattress, bed frame, TV stand and possibly his TV so I have to find some way to move those.

When we finish all the apartment things, Vince calls me and tells me he actually had something come up and that he won’t be able to make the beach with me. Initially I’m disappointed but then I resolve to go anyway alone. That was my plan from the beginning and actually, this day folded pretty well. I got quality time with Vince and I still get to go to the beach. Parking was a bit of a nightmare but I eventually find a really tight spot (and tight as in literally, not in the dudebro connotation).

I get there and I’m in love. The sand between my toes, the wind, the air, the birds and the ocean waves crashing. The sky is completely spotless and blue, save for the occasional aircraft. Even though it’s a beautiful Saturday evening, the beach is pretty spread out and spacious between everyone. I easily find a spot to sit and enjoy the ocean without people close to me and no one in my view of the sunset. 9/10 absolutely would go again, despite the 30-40minute drive. Only glaring negative was the random middle aged guy who started talking to me. I only engaged in conversation once he mentioned he was from Minnesota (how can I turn away a fellow Minnesotan). But this guy talked to me forever, basically until the sun literally went down. Angry face emoji. It’s fine, except I could not tell what he wanted? Was he just being friendly? Was he trying to hit on me? Was he networking? Why me? The answer to that last one (or I guess all of them) is “because you’re a girl alone on the beach.”

I’m writing a lot. I’m aware. But one last thing I should catch you up on is Jun. He comes last because I honestly have mixed feelings about him. So we had a bit of a pre-dating thing going. You know, where the two of you flirt and are hyperaware when y’all brush up against each other and stuff? We were drinking after work at Emily’s place with a few other coworkers and after everything died down, we crashed on her couch. We stayed up talking for another couple hours, stroking hands and touching until he gets up and kisses me. I’m fucking giddy because I’m kissing Jun and Jun is kissing me. He puts a hand on my breast and starts playing with my nipple, which I put an immediate stop to because fucking Josh (one of our coworkers) is sleeping on the floor near us and Jun’s got me physically wanting to climb him like a tree.

The next night we both work together again and he invites me to come back to his place. We sit and chat for a while over a couple beers before picking up where we left off the night before. I want to keep the dirty deets to myself but in a nutshell, we fucked three times. I came once, which honestly surprised me because it took me a hell of a long time to come with Matt. Jun and I also did it three times without protection. Which yes dear reader, I know it’s fucking stupid and this is the second guy I’ve done that with; having gotten caught up in the moment and just submitting to the moment without caring about the consequences. But both times I eventually convinced myself to take Plan B. I also know that Plan B is not a form of birth control. I still have two months worth of the pill from when I was dating Matt, but I won’t start them unless I’m consistently sexually active. No point in fucking with my hormones if I’m only smashing once in a blue moon. So yes, I went out and bought condoms. A girl will be prepared, even if she hates condoms.

Anyway, Jun. He tells me he doesn’t want anything serious. He tells me he’s going out for drinks with a girl the next night. Twice now he’s been too tired to hang out after work (which is definitely warranted because we’re both up til 3-4am every fucking night closing at Tatsu). As far as it looks, doesn’t seem like any more than a one and done. Which is a bummer. I could mentally/emotionally prepare for a no-strings-attached deal, I just wanted to be with Jun in some capacity but it seems like once we smashed, he didn’t want the same. I can hear my mom’s voice saying some shit like “Guys only want one thing and once they get it they’re out.” First of all, everyone has a fluid amount of sexual drive but everyone also has emotional needs and connections with people. I could easily fuck and chuck Eric from Peoria and be exactly the kind of “guy” my mom thinks guys are. But then there was fucking Ravi who I fucked one time and the guy would not leave me alone. He relentlessly messaged me on Facebook, found my Instagram, Snapchat? Some guys don’t just fuck once and leave, some stick around for more. It’s dependent. Which is why is sucks that the situation with Jun is what it is. But looking at “fate” or whatever, it makes sense. There were just small instances where I felt like I was being told, “hey this isn’t meant to happen.” Things that are meant to happen will be pushed in the right direction. Like today with Vince and the beach. Life told me that I should hang out with Vince by getting lunch and experiencing The Museum of Jurassic Technology, and then it told me that Manhattan Beach is just for me.

Despite my lack of romantic success, I feel good. Things seem to be falling into the right place at the right times. I have an apartment, I have people who I enjoy being with and doing stuff with. I have someone who believes in my skills and my potential (Vince, who has been pushing for my promotion at Tatsu and providing me some serious support.) Everything that will be will be.

---

1:34am (technically April 15th)

I just remembered something that Vince told me last night at the Bungalow that I want to write down for my fragile ego’s sake:

“Apparently you have a fan base at Tatsu. I had a customer come in yesterday and ask me ‘is Juliet working tonight? I have some friends I want to bring in to meet her, is she working this weekend?”

Vince couldn’t tell me the name or face of the guy who asked but I am beyond thrilled/happy/giddy that a CUSTOMER knows my name, my face and LIKES me enough to want to have his friends meet me *flips hair.* As someone who obsessively checks the Yelp reviews for mentions of a “cute helpful Asian waitress” or my actual name, this will be an integral part of my self-esteem :)

[takebackthetreasure92]

Making myself clear to my ex-stalkers

This is an email I sent my former staff worker from InterVarsity Christian Fellowship in February 2018. Apparently, InterVarsity remains under the impression that I won't speak out about the fact that they gang-stalked me and encouraged my abuser to harass me--even strangle me. And spread slander about me that they knew was false, just because my would-be murderer was a model student leader and it was my reputation or his. Are they really foolish enough to think I will back down? #InterVarsity #metoo

"Hi Jordan,

This is just to set you straight on a few things and make sure you understand what I hope for and don't hope for with you in future. The reason for using the pseudonymous email address is just a precaution against a certain ex at the moment because my legal name change is not information he needs right now, but I think you know who this is ;). (It's Julian, who has ditched their birth name for good.)

So I know that you, at the very least, had the decency to recognize the low and utterly puerile nature of your betrayal of me. You even almost got yourself to believe your own lies sometimes. I say almost because you had your somewhat squeamish moments, like when you used Gregor's last abusive accusation of non-forgiveness as a way to try to shut me up about every way our former cult had fucked up. (Honey, you realize your willful blindness to InterVarsity's more dangerous qualities and failure to watch Gregor's paranoia and rage, both of which escalated almost no matter what I did (keeping my mouth shut not being something I owed him or that he deserved), could have resulted in me getting literally strangled to death at Rockbridge, right? If you honestly don't--well, that ought to at least explain quite a lot about my continued hypervigilance around IV that led to some perfectly understandable PTSD paranoia. Google around and inform yourself on what that looks like. For your love of God, please recognize the signs in the students that come your way in future at Needle's Eye or anywhere else.)

Jordan, I feel like if you had paid closer attention to the things I was trying to tell you every time I brought it up or a PTSD flashback brought it to mind, which I unabashedly recall was often because...your cult was (and is) dangerous, you might have picked up on the fact that I was hoping to wake you up to what was going on in the ministry. And you used both my persistence and my PTSD to stab me in the back in what was the most manipulative way possible (no matter what prettier half-truth you told the self-righteous and naive Halen about it). Your smile at me when you knew Josh's confusion at that ridiculous gossip situation (your poisonous cult was the problem there, dear, not me) gave you a way to fuck me over, and to let your own childish ass off the hook for having an openly pro-gay transgender member, recalled a seven-year-old boy who had just told a perfect fib to the teacher on someone else and thought he was going to keep the candy he stole from that other person after all. You were a child, to be blunt, Jordan, just an immature, accountability-shirking little boy who threw his more Christ-like morals completely out the window--and all in the name of covering up every disgusting arm-twist (all failed arm-twists in my case, hee hee hee) and mind game and coercive (and often abusive) move InterVarsity had ever pulled to keep its attendees in line. Speaking of which, your expression when you thought I was about to blurt out the words "I was gay" at one event might have led someone else to think I was about to forcibly break someone else's arm, at the very least. Jordan, becoming disappointed when people who say something controversial on Facebook and then have the temerity to show up at your event--that is a fifteen-year-old thing to do. Admittedly it's better than seven, but *really?*

You know, what I give myself a pat on the back for is not giving in to your or Gregor's immature insistence that I keep my mouth shut. What you did there was wrong, Jordan, not least because you knew perfectly well Gregor was a very, *very* dangerous person when his narcissism was threatened. The only thing I caved on with him was the fact that during our casual relationship he monopolized my time romantically, literally stalked me, and acted very petulant and possessive when other men's names came up--and in the later stages of that contemporaneously cheated on me with my roommate and later went out of his way to paint me as a complete ninny for getting offended by that, as if nonconsensually holding someone to romantic double standards does not count as cheating, which of course anyone without pathological narcissism and over the age of 18 or so knows it does. Just because I gave him my silence on just that one at the time for Brooke (who truly had no clue because she had taken his fibs hook, line and sinker, to the point where he would have had no problem still messing with her mind by smearing his way out of further accountability, just like you did with me later in the game) did not mean that I was going to even begin to overlook my conviction that InterVarsity classmates needed to be told what the ministry was capable of, under the wrong circumstances and with the promise of seizing more and more control over the lives of its members. That I never ceded that control to you all--for which again, I feel extremely blessed and grateful, but to God goes that glory--is of course the real reason you gave me the boot and then tried so hard to mindfuck me into thinking I had no one but my own sorry, selfish, deep-in-sin self to blame.

LOL! Grow up, Jordan. That is the kind of silly lie a fourteen-year-old boy tells his partner (especially if his partner is female-identified and he therefore feels entitled to say it to "his girl") when he's trying to get a get-out-of-jail-free card for screwing her over by making her believe it's because of something she's done. Spiritually, you are the one who needs to get your shit together. You and InterVarsity fucked our friendship over, and you delivered the coup de gras for an incredibly selfish, inappropriately domineering, and silly reason. Emma may have been able to behave like a manipulative, completely brainwashed fool on the matter most of the time (which of course, to a degree, she was), but your own acting and/or (more likely) self-deception skills left just a bit more to be desired. I mean, I get that the staff routinely throw both themselves and their dogma at people to earn their allegiance (in many ways it was like dealing with very persistent pimps, especially when you were trying to shut me up, just to be brutally honest there), but still. And for the record, I have called Gregor out on everything (partly to cleanse my own mind of any toxic remnants of his brainwashing and mainly to secure my safety and my partner's, now that Gregor lives just over in Nashville) and threatened him with a restraining order based on both his abuse and threats and his (actual) stalking behavior if he *ever* resumes any of that again--and pointed out to him that pointing those projections of his back at him where they belong would be a cakewalk in any "court of law," should it come to that. Which of course praise God it almost certainly won't, now that I've made it clear I don't trust him to behave in the event of reconciliation, not in this life. For the last seven years all I've wanted for him was for him to be free of all the poison in his soul--that is a wish extremely near and dear to my own heart and soul--which is why your disgusting use of the ammo he gave you in telling you of his self-exculpatory-nine-year-old accusation of non-forgiveness (no, child, the reason it so visibly hit home was not actually being guilty of that; I've given you the real reason) was so, so, SO low. And I did not give a fuck about what Mary and the other brainwashed, narrow, and foolish girls thought, just to be radically honest about them.

Again, for your own sake, for the sakes of your students in Needle's Eye, and literally for God's sake, you have got to get your spiritual shit together. For years I thought you were one of the ones who also remembered to hold onto principle and, more importantly, a sense of principle *that originates within the self,* not the cult. I was very, very wrong about that. As advice, I'll let you know that I often felt like one of the few people in the cult who hung on to their adulthood in that sense, mainly *because* I would not relinquish control over my life, let alone my mind. You almost got me with the implied lie about everything being just "benevolent misunderstandings," but in my heart and in the hearts of others who would have been vilified and dismissed right and left, had they voiced those opinions to the overenmeshed majority, all those childish fibs never quite held water. Your crimson-faced mortification when I cunningly ratted your bullshit out to Josh--that was a very adult high five on your part, so I sincerely high-five you in return for all that--said it all.

I need scarcely say that I make no apologies at all for exposing all of your evil as a ministry to the university's first-years. They were the ones who needed to be warned in light of all your intrusive, sneaky, manipulative, and just plain disrespectful rubbish in infiltrating the move-in volunteer staff and pulling out all the shots in your usual WAY-too-manipulative ploys to lure new people over. There is a world of difference between wanting a person to be Saved--God has a myriad of tools suited to that purpose, as you well know, for which good old-fashioned prayer will suffice if it's meant to be--and wanting to be the saving force and guide. And there certainly is a difference, a very consequential AND spiritually essential difference, in wanting it so intensely that you will stoop to ANYTHING to pull people into your ministry, not RUF or Cornerstone, and to make sure they join, stay, and follow YOU. The real kicker here is that their definition of "follow" is for their members ENTIRELY too invasive, inappropriately domineering, manipulative, unhealthy (the DEFINITION of unhealthy, dear, so it's small wonder your staff used that buzzword fairly frequently with folks, in the pot calling any criticizing kettle black), and just plain psychologically abusive in a much-too-frequent pattern.

So I beg of you. BEG of you. If you have not already, get your shit together. I intend to just let you be in future, and I would appreciate it if you would extend me the same courtesy, starting with not responding to this email. Even though you're out of IV now (for your sake I sincerely thank God for that), I don't need to tell you outright that you had your chance with my friendship; you blew it when you irrevocably broke my trust. Forgiveness always came easy for me, but almost no matter what comes up down the road I will never fully trust you again in this life. The same goes for Gregor and Emma. And there is nothing you can say to me that you can get inside my head ever again. I'm just being honest.

Please, just work on healing any remaining crippling and lies in your mind and soul.

In Christ,

Julian"

[isa-ly]

IT’S OKAY TO BE CLICHÉ

TW: therapy, mental illness, anxiety, depression

Hey, so, I haven’t mentioned my super cool therapist in the last two blog posts, and I thought it was about time I did that again: Shout out to you, Kerstin, you’re the real MVP man, love you. Too much? Okay, yeah. Sorry. Professionalism, right. (I really hope she doesn’t read this blog, I mean she agreed it would be a good idea for me to write it but Christ, I doubt she’d wanna see me again if she actually found it.)

Okay, why this very odd and potentially problematic intro to today’s post, you ask? (Please tell me you asked yourself that, I feel so lonely here) Well, today I’m gonna tell you (or myself, I guess) the story of how I first started my therapy journey. Because, boy oh boy, is it a turbulent and long one. And we’re all about working through those turbulent and long life stories on here, aren’t we. So, let’s begin.

In all my previous posts, I’ve already given a pretty solid overview of all my various psychological issues that are deeply nestled in my mind and brain. However, as I wasn’t born a genius or psychoanalyst, you might be able to guess that I wasn’t always aware of those from the beginning. In fact, I had absolutely no fucking idea what was going on when they started, and kind of just floated in a constant state of anxiety, depression, insomnia and my general quarter-life crisis for a good few months.

Luckily, I have some very good friends (and also a few rational brain cells, big kudos to those fellas), with the help of which I figured out after a while, that whatever it was that was causing all my problems, was probably worth finding out by consulting an actual professional. A connaisseur of the mind. An expert on the depths and divots of the psyche, if you will.

Okay, we get it, Isa. You went to see a therapist. Stop it already with the pretentious big talk.

Excuse me, this is my blog, don’t tell me what to do. (I’m really Dr.-Jekyll-and-Mr-Hyde-ing it up on here, ain’t I?). Anyway. Yes, you are right, that is exactly what I was getting at. Only that between the realization of me needing professional and guided help, and the actual act of getting said help, lie about ten to eleven more months.

A year, basically. It took me an entire year to actually get my shit together and sign up for my first ever therapy session. Whoops.

To some, that might sound pretty unbelievable if one can trust my previous stories of how I was a) not really feeling anything, ever, b) had panic and anxiety attacks every night and c) was basically disconnected from my body and mind like 24/7. To others, though, taking a long time to finally make the step and ask for help, might be something very relatable.

And while I’m not necessarily on here to be related to, I myself am the latter of the two people mentioned above. As in: Asking for help is really not one of the strengths I mention on my CV (hence my last blog post about pointlessly shit-posting on social media instead). And even more importantly: Admitting to myself that I am in need of help and cannot fix my problems on my own, is even harder.

You see, autumn of 2018 hadn’t been the first ever time that I had struggled mentally. As a teenager, there were a couple of incidents where, looking back on it now, I had really been in urgent need of therapy. But I was too young and my parents unfortunately not understanding and knowledgeable enough, to see that that had been the case.

I graduated high school, some more time passed, water under the bridge and all, until I started university and my childhood traumas, as all my other problems, were swiftly brushed under the rug of repression. (That sounds like an edgy indie band, I like it). And for a while, everything was fine. Really, I loved what I was studying, I made some great new friends, acquired new skills, got way too drunk and made out with way too many people, went to study abroad, got even more drunk and made out with even more people. Let’s just say I was living the student life to the fullest.

But we all know that things didn’t just continue to be that peachy. That’s why I’m sitting here writing, after all. 

I’m not going to whine about how unfair life can be because really, there’s enough white, cis-gender, middle-class white women out there who already do that on a daily. Suffice to say, things did get kind of tough though, when that fifth semester of university hit, and I was faced with something I had never yet been faced before: The impending doom of the future. (Insert the dramatic sound effect from Inception).

Growing up, I had always had an exact plan of what I wanted to do in life, who I wanted to be and where I wanted to go. I was good at writing and coming up with stories, and also had a big mouth and way too many opinions, so I figured journalism would be the way to go. I got into the uni of my dreams and was finally doing what I had always wanted to do. Or ... well, okay, I liked some of the subjects. It sure was a huge load of work. And, actually, some of the professors, who were also journalists, seemed to be pretty big dicks. And wait, I don’t really agree on most of the practices and opinions they teach. Also, actually working at a newspaper isn’t that cool and more so a literal living hell. Do I really want to do this still? Is that really who I am?

Did I ... make the wrong choice?

Aaaaand there goes everything I built my personality, hopes and dreams on. Out of the window, just like that. Bye bye, future. Bye bye, all my plans. Bye bye, ground beneath my feet.

I realize that this sounds exactly like what I said I was trying to avoid (me whining), but I want to be honest and suddenly being hit with the fact that the thing I had been so sure of pursuing all my life, was actually nothing but smoke and mirrors, was kind of a punch to the gut. Strong enough to clearly derail me, yet subtle enough to keep me from noticing it at first.

I’m planning on talking about this in a separate post but I wan to pre-empt this much: I have a pretty big issue with not being in control of my own life and for the first time since literal birth, that was the case. I was completely clueless as to what would happen next, how I would figure it out and what the hell I was going to do with my life and academic education. It hit me like a wall of bricks but in a way, I was in too much of a shock state to realize that it was really starting to cause some bigger issues.

This was around the time that my nightly panic attacks started happening. I didn’t sleep well, started missing classes and began to hate every single thing about my course. I felt lost but didn’t want to admit it. All the other people in my class seemed so damn sure of where they wanted to go and here I was, a zombified insomniac, trying to get through yet another exam I didn’t give a single shit about, in order to do my degree in a subject I had lost all my previous passion for.

This confusing and draining state of just continuing to push went on for a few months, and I somehow made it into the sixth semester, with almost all my left-over willpower and what little energy there still was in my tired bones, having faded to the barest of minimums. I mean, I took one of my law exams on the very last try because I just hadn’t managed to get out of bed for all those 8am lectures, therefore loosing one of the three tries I had, not having studied enough to go the second one and then found myself sitting at the third try, secretly wishing to just fail so I could drop out, curl into a ball and sleep for a year.

You know, just your casual university breakdown.

Only that I was still violently denying that that was exactly what had been happening for the last semester. I didn’t want to admit it but ... I was breaking down. Not in a plane-crash-and-burn kind of way but more in a Titanic way, where I underestimated the ice berg that was my impending life crisis and then spend ages ignoring the fact that I was slowly but certainly sinking further into my demise. Okay, that comparison was in poor taste, I apologize. I’ll tune it back on the drama again.

I knew I needed help. Someone to talk to and figure out what the hell was causing my anxiety, panic attacks and insomnia. But I kept telling myself that I just had to push a little more until I wrote my thesis and finished university and then, then I would deal with all my issues. I just needed to keep going and do this first, just a little longer, just until I got my degree. Now was not the time, okay? I was still busy, and if those damn issues could see that and wait for another second, God damn it, why won’t my brain just let me finish this first.

Ding-dong. 

Can you hear that? That’s right. It’s the burn-out, ringing my doorbell.

And it didn’t wait for me to ask for it to come in. Burn-outs usually never do. And neither did any of my other problems. I had kept them at bay long enough, but the tide still came.

Because if we think back to my cupboard metaphor in my post about panic attacks and anxiety: Once that door opens, it all comes crashing down on top of you. In my case, this meant that I found myself amidst mountains of thesis literature, having nothing left to do but that one, single task of writing my final academic paper, before I finally got to be free of this horrid course, that I had apparently wasted the last three years of my life on.

I knew I had more than enough time left to write my thesis. I liked my topic. I had all the books. All the plans. All of it. Right there. Just write it. Just fucking start typing. Just– 

Just sit at the library every day, staring at the cursor on the page, blinking, reminding you of the emptiness of the document before you, and the even bigger emptiness in your chest. It blinks, like it’s trying to mock you and with every second that passes, every other minute of not writing, just sitting and staring, it mocks you more and that emptiness gets bigger. 

I don’t want this to turn into a pretentious short story, but this was what it felt like. I would open my laptop every day, ready to work, and then just proceed to stare at it for hours on end, until all of a sudden, the sun had started to set again and the day would be over. I’d go to bed, rinse and repeat, and do it all over again the next day. Still having my panic attacks. Still not sleeping. Still thinking that it was all going to be fine if I just kept trying and kept pushing.

Needless to say, I didn’t hand in my thesis on the first try. But hey, a lot of people don’t! Hell, even most of my class mates didn’t. So, it’s okay, mum and dad, friends and family, I’m fine! I just need to put more work in and make it better, so I can hand in a well-researched paper. I just need more time.

More time.

Time, that I would spend opening my laptop, every day, ready to work, and then just proceed to stare at it for hours on end until all of a sudden, the sun had started to set again and the day would be over. I’d go to bed, rinse and repeat, and do it all over again the next day. Still having my panic attacks. Still not sleeping. Still thinking that it was all going to be fine if I just kept trying and kept pushing.

I just. Needed. More. Time.

As you can probably guess, I also didn’t hand in my thesis the second time around. And when the deadline for the third and last chance to hand it in and get my degree came around ... well, I just accepted my defeat.

It had come to a point where even my delusional ass had started to realize that something was clearly wrong. Like, completely, utterly wrong. I had kept pushing, no, kicking my problems in front of me like a kid kicks a football while walking to the playground, pretending that if I just dragged them with me long enough, I could maybe outrun them and finish what I wanted to finish before finally dealing with them. But after an entire year of doing that, even I had to admit that that wasn’t going to work.

It never had and it never would. And finally accepting that, was as painful as it was freeing, in a way. There was something about knowing that I had hit my breaking point, that had a strange sense of relief to it. I don’t want to romanticize any of what happened to me just for the sake of story telling. But I remember feeling like by hitting my first ever rock bottom, I was now at the point where, as they like to say, the only way was up.

Right?

Right.

Well, kind of. Not really. But that’s for another post to tell, for now let’s continue with the therapy journey.

Don’t get me wrong, even though my stubborn head and me had finally accepted that it had gotten to a point where I had no excuses left to make, I still felt like an absolute cliché for having become one of the people who have a nervous breakdown in their twenties because their dream of a perfectly planned life hadn’t worked out exactly how they had wanted it to. What a big, privileged crybaby I was. Or at least, that’s what a part of me thought. 

But I kind of knew back then, and most definitely know now, that no matter how cliché or silly you feel for not being able to “fix” your problems by yourself, there lies absolutely no weakness or failure in admitting that you need someone else to help you with it. Quite the contrary is the case: it’s probably one of the bravest things you can do in life. And I know that in comparison to what other people might have gone through, my own issues might have just been a speck of dust in the universe. But to me, they were the ice berg that got my ship to sink. And that is exactly why your own problems are never invalid or “too small” to work on. Because while they might not seem like real problems (whatever the fuck that means) to society, your parents (we’ll talk about that one another time as well, yikes) or anyone else who clearly hasn’t gotten their priorities right, they very much are real problems to you. 

And they were real problems to me, too.

So, after a year of what felt like beating a dead horse, I was finally ready to re-animate that horse, so I could move forward in life (horse metaphors, yes, Isa, that’s exactly what this blog still needed). I signed up for my first ever therapy assessment, got my first ever diagnosis and even joined a session of group therapy. The psychotherapist I had my assessment with, actually diagnosed me with anxiety and depression disorder, which kind of didn’t come as a big surprise to me, since those were the two things I had experienced literally all year. Still, hearing a medical professional say it out loud after having listened to my story, was a strange yet good feeling. For the first time, it felt like something I could grasp. It was no longer just a confusing and irritating thing that kept me awake at night and brain-dead during the day. It had a name, and even more importantly: It had a treatment.

Unfortunately, the place I signed up to had no free spots for one-on-one therapy yet, so, plot twist: This isn’t where my heavily praised and even more heavily featured therapist Kerstin comes in yet. Tricked you, didn’t I? (No, I literally tricked no one because if anyone even reads this blog, it’s my friends who already know exactly what happened so really, who am I kidding.) There’s still a lot of stuff that happened between me having my first ever assessment and receiving my first ever diagnosis, and me actually meeting my first ever personal therapist.

But, this blog post has already been going on for too long and I don’t want to get ahead of my own emotional work schedule. Plus, I’m once again pretty heavily dissociated at this point, so I think it’s best if I give it a rest for today and continue another time.

If there’s any kind of take away and conclusion for myself and anyone who might read this, it’s that no matter what all those doubtful voices in your head are saying: Your problems are valid. Your pain is worth recognizing and you should never compare it to those of others in order to down-play it or make yourself think that you’re not doing “bad enough” yet. There is no such thing as being ill or miserable enough. Whatever it is you’re struggling with, it’s worth taking a break and figuring it out. Because the movie Titanic might have been a cinematographic masterpiece, but in the end the ship still sank. And if there’s something that can help avoid that happening, someone you can talk to and that can help you get better (and there always is) – you should do it, because it’s the least that you deserve.

#therapy #introspection #first diagnosis #anxiety #depression

[wilbers-journey]

PTSD

PTSD and what it means to me

If you are offended by swearing please do not read, i find it therapeutic and necessary at times when writing to express myself, how I'm feeling or how important something is to me.

PTSD is nothing but a C**T in the short of it!!!

I am no expert, i am a sufferer, so these words are from my side of things. Everyone is effected differently, copes differently and will experience it in different ways.

I was diagnosed with ptsd on 3rd December 2018 by my new psychologist Jo.

I was referred to Jo from the perinatal mental health team.

My counselor had referred me to perinatal as she suspected i had ptsd, i was pregnant again so soon after Wilber had died and thought i would need the extra support. I saw perinatal they suspected ptsd to so referred me to Jo.

My first appointment with Jo is very vague as is a lot of my life the last couple of years. Jo was aware of what i had been through and that i was pregnant again and she was very keen on supporting me to be able to live a more fulfilled life.

On my first appointment we done an - Impact of events scale - I scored 66.

PTSD is diagnosed by symptoms and this scale. A score of over 33-88 signifies a likely presence of ptsd and me scoring 66 was quite up there.

At the time of this appointment yes i was pregnant but to be honest it didn't feel real as did nothing else in my life.

I was being consumed of a feeling like i was actually going crazy. That i was imagining things to be worse than what they were and my sense of reality was just not there.

You see, although my pregnancy with Wilber was horrific from 20 weeks and i new one day he would die just not when, i was coping with it all very very well. Maybe to well some would say. I was the mother to a son and felt like it was me and Wilber against the world. Looking back i shut down at that 20 week scan and something inside me changed. I shut a lot of people out pulled up my big girl pants and just got on with it.

There were times i had wobbles I'd not be human if i had not and the same on nicu my wobbles were few and far between but when i did have them they were pretty epic and ugly to watch. All in all though I had my shit together.

I wasn't only Wilber's mummy i was his voice, his advocate and carer. He was my world and know one knew him better than me!!

(If your reading this and you have children never ever doubt your motherly/fatherly instincts ever)

Wilber had many ups and downs on nicu but after he had been for his muscle biopsy at Addenbrookes Hospital and was back in Norwich at around 7 weeks old he kinda sorted it out a bit and was doing really well.

At this time we now had his full diagnosis. His Arthrogryposis that was diagnosed in the womb was caused by having a spontaneous mutation of the RYR1 Gene that was Central Core Disease. A very rare form of Muscular Dystrophy. Now although there are other RYR1 sufferers out there there are not reported cases like Wilber's anywhere in the world. This made things extremely difficult for the professionals that was working with Wilber to know where his journey would go while he was here and doing so well.

Wilber wasn't expected to survive birth but he was giving the biggun and keeping everyone on there toes.

Wilber had personality in abundance and had the hearts of all those that worked with him. He was certainly a heart stealer and made all the rules.

He was alert, cheeky, you could engage with him and story times were one of his favorites. He would watch the book as you told the story and look at you. He loved his music, bum pats and cuddles.

Any thing he could fit in his chubby chops he wanted. His tube, dummy a finger he didn't care but that boy loved sucking them and got comfort from it. He used to suck his tube so ferociously he could be heard around room 2 and it'd be like oh Wilber's sucking his tube. I loved that sound as much as he loved doing it.

Wilber was nosey!!! Just like his mother. He would follow me while i was around and break his neck trying to see what was going on outside of his cot.

So reading all of that i hope you can get a feel for where i was at with Wilber on his journey. Wilber had had a couple of attempts off of the ventilator and really gave it his all but would always end up back on.

He could not breath unsupported and needed ventilation. So that meant if he was to ever come home he would need full time ventilation and the only way that would happen was through a tracheotomy.

Wilber had a big multi disciplinary meeting arranged for 14th August 2018. It was with a specialist from Addenbrookes.

Now this meeting was going to be the decider on whether Wilber lived or died. Sounds blunt doesn't it? but that was how it was.

He was still doing well and as the time come closer everyone's nerves grew stronger. Not just mine and Marks but everyone involved with him.

I remember a conversation with one of the nicu senior workers and she had read Wilber a story when I wasn't there and it had brought her to tears because of how he was as in responding to her etc. That how could we be told we couldn't keep him if he was the way he was. Everyone's views were the same.

Yes Wilber was severely disabled physically but his brain, hearing and eyesight were fine. There are thousands of disabled people in this world and the fact my son was one of them did not scare me at all. He was my son and i loved him for who and what he was. The absolute love of my life. The thing that did scare me was the prospect of facing the knowledge that one day i would live my life without my son. That's just not the natural cycle of life's way but here i was facing it and had been since February 2018.

So, this is where it all is about to change and my world fell from feet very quickly and unexpectedly.

Early hours on 7th August 2018 i got a call telling me i needed to get to nicu and that Wilber was in cardiac arrest and they were struggling to keep him here.

I remember just saying Fuck!! Got out of bed and headed out my parent accommodation door in pjs and walked as fast as could to nicu.

One of the things I remember thinking is, how?

We was watching pepa pig on the iPad last night and he was absolutely fine this cant be real?

Another thing I remember thinking is what is he gonna look like?

I remember trying to remember what staff was on?

Wishing i could move quicker than i was!!

I remember turning the corner to the nicu corridor and a nurse was waiting for me with the door open and i said to her "is he gone" what a fucking question to have to ask? But i needed to know before i walked in so i had time for my brain to register my baby could be dead.

As i got to the door i felt my weight buckle and she she grabbed hold of me and walked me to Wilber.

I started to cry and we walked into room 2.

I remember all the lights being on and a big over head one shining on Wilber. He was blue and still. A senior nurse was giving him chest compressions.

I screamed and begged him not to die and leave me telling him i love him and that i was not ready and that i needed him here with me.

There was 2 nurses on the left of his bed 2 nurses on the right. The nurse doing the chest compressions and 2 doctors standing there giving instructions.

I asked was they stopping and they said not yet.

Now i am no fucking doctor or nurse but i was a mother who had sat by her sons bed day and night for 12 weeks. I came home twice in that time to sleep at home and a few days for just a few hours. I could not bare being away from him. I knew him more than any of those now trying to save his life.

When i first saw Wilber the first thought in my head was get that fucking tube out of his mouth. I couldn't understand why they had not cleared his airway completely but the words just didn't come out because i was begging him not to die instead.

The room felt panicked and there was a feeling of loss of control within the staff. I came away and sat in there parent and child room just outside room 2 with a nurse who had seen Wilber have all his big unstable events. As i went in there the consultant arrived and minutes later Wilber was back with us but he would not be the Wilber i knew, the staff knew and everyone else knew.

The hours that followed were consumed by tests, lots of taking, observations and me being in total shock and felt like i was on another planet.

I was encouraged to go back to my room to rest as Wilber was stable but I couldn't not just yet.

Wilber was having lots of tests done and i needed to be there.

I did eventually go back and still to this day i cannot remember that walk back or my time in my room or the walk back to Wilber. I Was in my room an hour and just couldn't be there i had to be with him near by so i pulled a couple chairs together in the parent room and tried to sleep in there.

The nicu day went ahead as it does every day but there was one thing that would not leave me. Why did they not take is tube out? It was playing on my mind i was asking staff and was expressing my feelings that i was not happy with how things had been managed. I called a meeting with a consultant who was one of my favorites.

When i went in that room the first thing i was told was, sorry. Then i was told they had expected that i would want a meeting and that i wanted answers.

With this meeting complete and my concerns of the management of the event an outside investigation was to take place and that was the start in the decline in my mental health and ptsd symptoms.

Wilber was no longer Wilber, the little boy I'd got to know so intensely over the last 12 weeks was not there. He could no longer fix and follow with his eyes, he lost his sucking reflex, he could not tolerate feeds, everything that once comforted him no longer did. It was like he had no idea what he was doing?

The little boy who i said i would never have suffer for my own selfish reasons of wanting him now was. It was absolutely fucking gut wrenching and heart breaking to watch. He cried a lot. Wilber was not a crying baby. He looked sad and i knew then it was coming for the time to let him go. I was ready because he was and this was now not fair on him.

I told the doctors that i was ready and i called my counselor from each to come so we could make plans. I also wanted a DNR in place as i did not want my baby going through anything like that again and if it was to happen while arrangements were being made and there was no DNR they would have to try and save his life.

My counselor came to nicu and we had a meeting with consultants. I expressed my wishes and that i wanted to let Wilber go and him no longer be suffering.

We was advised to not be hasty and to give him a chance. The big meeting was 1 week away and Wilber might improve.

Now i as his mummy knew that this was not going to be the case but those words spoken did give me a glimpse of hope. If you have no hope you have nothing so again i pulled my big girl pants up and started to get to know my new Wilber. It was hard so so fucking hard. He was my priority and seeing him how he was was soul destroying.

I felt like everything i had fought for, for months and been ripped away from me and i felt absolutely robbed. I still do and think i always will because there are so many what if's. Now I'm not delusional at the fact i had Wilber forever. How could i be when I'd been told for months he would die but one thing i am certain of is his last days did not have to be how they were, end of!!

That event was investigated and it took 7 months to complete.

In that 7 months I honestly felt like i was crazy, literally. I knew what I had witnessed and i knew in my heart that big fuck ups happened at my sons expense. But then i questioned myself constantly, was i making it up? Was it really that bad? Was Wilber how he really was? I cant explain to you fully what it was and is like but hopefully one day i will find the words. But let me tell you, watching something out of your control knowing its not being dealt with correctly and the impact is life changing is what has caused me to have ptsd.

My symptoms have varied but a few are, flashbacks, avoidance, suicidal, I'm hyper vigilant, nightmares of the event, severe anxiety, irrational thoughts. I could go into them but honestly i have not got the energy or do i want to focus on the real impact its had on my life.

The report came back that yes Wilber's tube should of come out a lot sooner.

Wilber's tube was not removed until 21 mins and 25 secs

Wilber's heart rate come back at 22 mins and 43 secs with a heart rate of 133

The report states that there was hesitation in removing his tube because he had a difficult airway to re intubate him!!

His tube should of been removed around the 7-8 minute mark

He was starved without oxygen for a very long time

The impact on him being huge and life changing

If they had of taken his tube out sooner i would not of witnessed any of the event that took place there for being totally less traumatic for me

Am i angry YES but not for myself for Wilber. I'm angry that my little boy suffered when he did not need to too and the last days of his life on earth were miserable and he suffered because of it.

Working through the trauma of this event has been nothing but absolute hell but i had to, to try and get into a head space where it was not consuming and ruining my life. It has taken so much away from me. My space to grieve, who i am as a person, how i see the world and deal with difficult things. PTSD will not have me forever its now part of my story and will never fully go away but where i am now is a totally different place to when i started seeing my psychologist.

I had my last psychologist appointment last week which i called time on. I explained that i feel i am ready to navigate on my own. I am aware ptsd will always rear its ugly head when I least expect it but i now have the tools and coping strategies to get me through hard days that are to come. I felt like her time could be better spent with someone who is on the beginning of there trauma work journey and on a waiting list to see her.

Jo agreed with me and we could finish and we re done the - Impact Of Events Scale - my score has come down from 66 to 39.

[mamamia2018]

Quarterly Word Vomit/NYRs/Thoughts on Motherhood/Life Plans/Silver Linings and Small Celebrations

ˆAw shiett.  You know, I always tell people going through shit to “write it down”.  Writing has always been therapeutic for me.  I’ve kept a diary since I was literally six years old and didn’t know how to spell.  I would draw emojis and hieroglyphic-like cryptic messages to say what I wanted.  True story: when I was six I wanted to write about my hamster, but I didn’t know how to actually spell “hamster”.  So, I drew a picture of a slice of deli-ham and someone stirring a bowl.  Get it?  Ham-stir = hamster.  My point is, I talk this big talk about writing and how it’s good for you and how much I love to do it and yet I hardly ever do it.  That changes now, in this moment (until I neglect myself again and put it off for another year or so.  

The last time I wrote was back in March.  I was still pregnant and teaching.  I wrote this little gem in my last post:

“It’s almost 1AM, I had coffee, I’ve got an achy back and only three days until I go on spring break, followed by maternity leave.  Does anybody know where the time went?  I sure don’t.  I can’t believe that i’m having a baby (that’s weird).  I’m so excited but so nervous to become a mom.  This is such a vastly different role than any other position I’ve held.  Teacher?  Sister?  Wife?  Daughter?  Friend?  I’ve done all that, somewhat decently (maybe), but never have I been responsible for birthing someone and then being their mom after.  Don’t get me wrong…I can’t wait.  I’ve been dreaming of this moment for a long time.  But the thought of it finally being here, holding my baby, dressing her, caring for her, feeding her…it’s all so foreign.  I’m so happy…the happiest I’ve ever been.  I just want to do this right by her.  I want to be a good mother, more than anything I think I’ve ever wanted for myself or someone else.“

Ah, motherhood.  I was expecting big changes from this major level-up, but nothing as blissfully wonderful, overwhelming, heart-warming, heart-breaking, and fantastic as this.  My Mia Jean is the light of my life.  She is my motivation.  The air I breathe.  Jesus, that got cliche fast, and yet these universal truths still fall incredibly short of how truly wonderful motherhood is.  I love my daughter with my entire existence and every fiber of my being.  I worry constantly if I’m enough and if I’m doing enough for her.  I’m trying my best.  This promotion to “mom” has been the biggest challenge and greatest blessing I’ve ever known--and I am one sick mofo that is known the world over for throwing myself into the fire and forcing myself to rise to the top.  I guess the words I’m looking for are this: motherhood is humbling.  When my child was born via emergency c-section 3.5 weeks early and I rested my faith in the well-trained medical staff surrounding me, I had never felt so vulnerable and humbled in my life.  My beautiful sterile, hospital gown was lifted so a nurse could shave the vagina I had lost sight of for four months.  They laid me on a bed, pulled my gown up, and there I lay--vagina hanging out in all my lovely, naked, pregnant glory--in front of about 15 nurses and docs as Luther Vandross played through the speakers.  Then they gave me some happy meds that made me numb but kept me conscious, sliced my uterus open, and pulled out a healthy baby whose loud, little kitty-cry and gooey little face stopped my heart and changed my world forever.  H-U-M-B-L-I-N-G.  And yet, that was the easy part.  It’s only gotten more humbling since then.  But--and let me emphasize this point--it’s been a wonderful ride and I wouldn’t change a second of it.  Our Mia is perfect in every way and all I want in my life is to live a life worth modeling for her.  Am I a good mother?  I have to say, I think I am.  I’m not perfect but who is?  I have my shortcomings, just as much as the next person.  Sometimes she eats avocado toast.  Other times, she eats cold Spaghetti-O’s right out of the can.  You know what they call that?  Balance.

So I guess we can say Mia was the best part of 2018.  Fucking easily.  No hesitations.  Other cool shit that happened: I got my second and third credentials in mild/moderate Special Education and moderate/severe Special Education.  So I’ve got the necessary docs to go out and start teaching tomorrow, but I’m taking some time off to enjoy our baby bug and be a stay at home mom.  Sure, it’s not the easiest job in the world maintaining a clean house, well-fed kid, and all the other tasks stay-at-home-moms are in charge of throughout the day, but man, do I consider myself fortunate to do this.  Without this opportunity, we’d be scrounging for daycare and paying out the ear to make it happen, so I’m so glad that we’re able to do this and I’m able to spend more time with our angel to get to know her and play a role in shaping her.  

That being said, I’m not used to not-working.  2017-2018 were two of the busiest years of my life, career-wise.  I began my first year teaching and added a third credential to my teacher prep program.  I began my master’s studies and grew (and then birthed) a baby.  I love being able to stay home with our baby, but I miss working and having coworkers.  I miss my money and I’m not wild about relying entirely on Sean, so I try to stay busy with my side business to satisfy the need to contribute.  I’ve been working since I was 16, so this is all still very foreign to me.  Again, I’m grateful, humbled, and consider myself extremely fortunate, but there’s been an ongoing adjustment period that I’m still trying my best to get used to.  I guess you could say I want to do it all.  I truly do.  I want to be the Wonder Woman who teaches full-time, nurses exclusively, finishes a master’s program and more.  I’ve gotten some eye-rolls from women who have done it all at once.  I feel like I used to be the woman that would judgingly pass the same eye-roll and now I know that I never want to be her again.  Again, the theme of 2018 that seems to keep popping up is “humbling”.  Motherhood, 2018, all of it has been humbling.  I’m learning that it’s okay to say no to certain tasks, people, and things.  I don’t have to do it all.  I can focus my energy on two or three major things that make my heart sing and do them really well instead of spreading myself so thin that I can’t do any of it well.  That’s okay and I’m not less of a woman for wanting that for myself and my family.  I can do this, I can scale back, I can focus on what’s most important, and put some stuff on the back burner and that is all quite alright.  It’s taking some time, and I’m getting there.

Speaking of boundaries, 2018 has taught me a lot about that, in (again) the most humbling way possible.  This year, Iearned that a loved one, whom I have a very strained and complicated relationship, is struggling with substance abuse.  In the process, I’ve learned that someone whom I love so dearly has put that same person’s needs before mine.  I’m trying to not get too detailed here, because this is all sort of private and very difficult to share.  I’m mostly trying to sort my thoughts out for myself, for the sake of having some clarity and mental health.  What I’m trying to get at is this--as time has gone on, this year has taught me that what you see isn’t always what you get.  That even the people you love and trust the most can hurt you in the deepest ways possible.  I’m learning a lot about myself through this journey and all the drama that comes with it.  I have a voice, an opinion, and I’m entitled to both.  I don’t have to forgive, but I have the capacity for it.  I have headspace, and I can choose who I want to share that with.  What’s happened to me in the past doesn’t have to define me.  The people that have hurt me and the horrible things they’ve said do not have to crush me.  I do not have to let these people into my heart.  I do not have to give people the power to hurt me.  I can have a relationship with people I love who have hurt me, but on my terms.  There is nothing wrong with that.  There is nothing shameful about that.  I am not selfish for creating boundaries.  I am caring for my own mental health and the safety of my family.  That being said, it’s still hard and I’m working on it every day.

I’m also learning that I can’t control others around me.  I can’t force people to make decisions that I deem “good” for them.  I cannot say anything or do anything that will move someone towards positivity or mental health.  At the end of the day, people will do what they want to and I need to face the fact that I have little control over this.  I’ve spent the majority of my life hoping, praying, wishing constantly that I can move my loved ones towards self-care, to no avail.  I still feel hurt and let down when I see my loved ones engaging in self-destructive behaviors, but I’m learning to release feelings of resentment and the false sense of control that I hold onto.  I’m dealing with this by establishing boundaries.  For myself.  In my life, I’ve often put the needs of others before my own.  In 2019, I’m vowing to be a little more selfish--to take care of myself and focus on my own health and needs.

This year has been a whirlwind.  I gained a daughter but lost a grandfather.  I lost a job but became a mother.  I lost some personal time but managed to complete my master’s proposal.  We went on vacation, we went horseback riding, we got drunk and acted like idiots at a swanky spa.  I reenrolled in school and started a business.  I’ve felt a lot of pain and put my heart and feelings on hold to take on some of the hurt of my loved ones.  It’s been exhausting and it’s been hell, but I made it and 2019 is on the horizon.  The promise of something new.  A blank canvas.  The chance to start fresh.  It’s cheesy, but I’ve been thinking a lot about 2018, what sucked, what I have control over and what I don’t.  And this mindset has helped me to determine what I want out of 2019.  I’m not entirely sure how I’ll get there yet, but at the very least, I’ve got a goal.  A wish.  A foundation for change.  Here it is.  

1.  I want to build a thriving bridal business.  I want to book more weddings.  Better clients.  Become a marketing wiz.  I want to make at least $50,000 this year in bridal work alone.  That’s like a 458293085904% increase from what I typically make out of this glorified hobby.  It’s also not a ton of money, in the grand scheme of things, but it’s more than i was making as an intern so it’s my goal.  My first year as a makeup “intern”.  Employed by me.  Reporting to me.  I am my boss.  I can do this.

2.  I am going to graduate.  I am going to walk in the summer and place my grad cap on my baby girl’s head.  I’m going to kiss her on the cheek and take a photo with her.  And when she goes to school, I’ll whip that picture out every year and show her how possible it is to achieve your dreams...even with a kiddo.

3.  I am going to focus on my mental health.  I am going to say no to certain projects, people, situations, and things that don’t bring me happiness.  This is the year I will use my voice and enforce my boundaries.

4.  I am going to be more present.  In the moment.  Less phone when I’m with someone, my nine-month old daughter, included.  

5.  I am going to be more mindful about the way I speak.  Less fucks and shits and damns, especially around my kid.  Yeah, I know...I fucked up and said all those things about a million times in this post.  But I’m working on it.

6.  I’m going to save money to buy a house in three years.  Three years.  I’m saying it and putting it out into the world.  I’m going to make it happen.

I’m tired and running out of things to say.  Good night.

[lifewithcookie]

Easter Sunday 2018

Waking up that morning, something seemed different about that day. Maybe, it was because I had spent Easter Sunday with my childhood best friend, Angie, after shortly having reconnected with her, or maybe it was because on that same day, she had stepped into my living room and took me on the roller coaster ride of a lifetime. The day went by with your normal day activities egg hunts, BBQ’s, and most importantly family bonding. I had heard from another long time friend and she had asked to come over and without a second thought, I said yes. I hadn’t seen her in a while and reconnecting and catching up on life was always great. I remember I drove Angie home that night and came back home to wait for Wendy to show up. Eventually, as expected Wendy shows up. We’ve known each other for 7+ years and she didn’t come alone that night. She had brought a friend; a friend I should’ve known was trouble. It’s like one of those things you feel in your gut. She carried herself with so much confidence, poise, and had a smile so contagious it made me smile. It was her smile that captured my attention, the sound of her voice, the smell of the cologne she wore. T-R-O-U-B-L-E, that’s what she was — trouble. We talked that night had a few drinks. Overall, I didn’t think much of it. When the night came to a close we said our goodnights and goodbyes and they left. Normal, right? On the following day, I get a request from her on my social media profile. Eager to learn more about her, I accept. I have dated girls before. So, that wasn’t new to me, but I wasn’t open about my sexuality. Only my close group of friends knew. I was attracted to this girl and better yet she was attracted to me. I guess it all started from there, this whirlwind of a romance that I would have never expected. I learned that she was married and going through a divorce. Maybe that should have been a red flag my warning, but something about her, once I was reeled in I couldn’t walk away. Like I said, I have dated girls before and made out with girls but I have never been sexual with a girl until Glow (let’s just call her Glow). It wasn’t just a sexual experience with her. It was a connection through chemistry, vulnerability I’d never felt before. Every touch, every kiss literally felt like it had been tattooed on my skin. Every word she whispered in my ear was written on my brain with permanent marker. I never believed in “the one” but at that moment she was my one. She was also  “the one” that broke my heart, shattered it into a million little pieces. Less than a month later, she non-chalantly tells me she got back in contact with her wife and she was going to work it out with her. I didn’t say anything. Not a damn thing only that I completely understood and appreciated her honesty. Not even 24 hours later, she’d erased me from her life completely. Living a happily ever after marriage like I had never existed. Like everything didn’t matter. I guess all I was to her was a temporary distraction; maybe that’s what I was from the very beginning. I lost myself then became a shadow of a person days passing by like newspapers flowing in the wind. Suddenly, the girl who hardly ever cried became the girl that cried all the time, in the bathroom at work, during breaks, car rides home… It didn’t matter that I tried to contain the tears they just came. I didn’t understand, I still don’t understand. Fast-forward 3 weeks she contacted me again, we meet, she apologizes and we become inseparable again. This reunion was short and sweet somehow she’s lead back to her wife again. She’s trying to restore a broken marriage I continue to justify her actions putting my feelings on the back burner. My anger, resentment, and pain begin to pile up. I should’ve never accepted her back that third time. Had I known I’d make all those stupid mistakes out of a momentary emotion? Had I known then what I know now. July 2018 I can’t remember the exact date Glow and I had been back in contact for, about 2 weeks. I sensed that something was different this time around. I wasn’t getting the truth and as far as I was concerned I deserved the truth. So I made the brisk and outright stupid decision to speak with her wife. Out of all the things I could’ve done. The domino effect of that one decision destroyed a very important relationship. I told her wife the truth about Glow and I and some exaggerations and in the end nothing I am proud of. As I’m leaving her wife’s house I begin to get these messages “you’re a waste of life” “go fucking kill yourself” “all you were good for was too fuck” and my favorite “did you really think that by talking to my wife that I’d leave her for you ha-ha fuck no” there was never anything positive said about her wife when she was with me. All I was ever told was how controlling she was, and how she loved the fact that I wasn’t controlling. How she would throw things in her face, but loved the fact that I never did. She would always tell me that her wife would take her checks and leave her with no money, that she didn’t allow her to have communication with her family and made her out to be a terrible person. That’s just it though; people in these sorts of situations make themselves on to be victims. Even though they’re the ones that cause all the pain. For what exactly? What was the point of all this? What was the point of me loving you, you loving her? What was the point of telling me you loved being with me? That I made you feel happy, that I was attentive with you, gave you everything. Yet you turned around and caused all this pain. I have every moment with her written in my heart like pages of a book where I can just flip back through pages and say, “oh I remember how my heart broke that day”. Her only comment to me was “I told you not to get attached” what the fuck? You spend 24/7 with someone, you lay in someone’s bed, didn’t you know that when you have sex with someone you don’t just touch their body, you touch their soul. How can you nickname someone’s child, and then turn around and say I told you not to get attached? How do you make plans for a future with someone when you knew it was a failed one from the start? KARMA Glow had to drive one last knife through my heart, did she know that this would be the knife that would kill the woman I was when I met her? She called my mom; she told my extremely homophobic mother that I am GAY. I thought Glow had broken my heart I was wrong; trophy goes to the woman that gave birth to me. According to her, I am a disgrace, according to her I shouldn’t have been born, she was ashamed to be my mother I had shamed her. She said I needed to find GOD because I was sick-minded individual, a pervert and someone like me could only pervert the mind of my daughter and that she prayed I would never conceive another child because I didn’t deserve to be a mother. I didn’t deserve to be a mother. Those words have stuck with me. I hear them every day. I replay the scene in my mind like a scene straight out of a horror movie. My mother, the woman that was supposed to protect me, guide me, this same woman was the one who destroyed me and the woman I fell in love with was the double edge sword that led to that. She outed me she took a very important ritual in the LGBTQ community from me. She didn’t allow me to come to terms with my sexuality. She stole that from me. My coming out story, it should’ve never been this way. When I pictured coming out, I pictured sitting around the kitchen island with my parents and having a conversation about how I am a woman attracted to other women but I am still me. After my experience, having been hurt by my mother. I am no longer the same outgoing, carefree, light-hearted woman I was before that Easter Sunday. I walk around heavy-hearted with a huge burden on my shoulders and a lot of questions that I know I will never have answers to. Overtime, the heart does heal, but like a broken glass you can put it back together but it’ll never look or feel the same. Glow, you didn’t break my heart you shattered my soul, but I’m still here I didn’t jump when you told me to jump. I smile because I’ve lived 150 more days since then.

#lgbtq #comingoutstory lesbianlove lgbtqpride firstlove firstheartbreak writer creativewriting