#i feel so bad??? like. i keep Fucking up she quite literally should’ve aborted me Christ

[the-bitter-ocean]

Do not reblog this. Lol.

#going to actually scream why am I like this #me: I think I am mentally well adjusted enough to have a call with my mother #me not even twenty minutes after the call: girl help that was a lie #i feel so bad??? like. i keep Fucking up she quite literally should’ve aborted me Christ #it would’ve. cost so much less in her life if she did not have me I think #anyway <3333 grades = my self worth I guess lol #like. why do i bother working at all of the result is still ‘hey! you did really shitty. feel bad and die’ #yes i’m back on my bullshit #yes I’m fully hyper aware that my perfectionism is a trauma response.yes I’m aware that my fear of failure stems from financial instability #does not change the fact that I am still going To feel this way forever actually #like. good daughters TM don’t make their moms cry over how fucking useless they are at raising them HELP #they do what their told and excel and are perfect and choose careers that are actually Going to put food on the table LOL #pov: you are me and you are a dumbass and can’t even pass classes in fucking art school hahahahaha I want to die #do #not reblog or like this I’ll actually bite you #anyway ya boi is 19 and still has mommy issues and undiagnosed mental illness #screams. that feeling when your dad is in prison and it is making the financial situation worse. girl help #why couldn’t I have just been actually self sufficient and not a fuck up I hate myself #the bitter ocean rants

[ptergwen]

Hi val! Got a request, it's okay if you don't wanna write it, but can you write about peter telling the reader he's going on a huge mission and he's excited about it but the reader is so worried they end up arguing? But when peter gets back from mission all bruised, the reader is still upset but dresses his wound anyway and it ends up with fluff??

abort mission

w/c: 2.4k

warnings: mentions of blood, swearing, and angst

a/n: woah woah woah i ended up writing way more than i expected but i loved this request so much :,) i hope you do too

-

“we’re staying in this, like, super fancy castle while we’re there. it’s gonna be awesome,” peter rambles to you. he takes all the clean shirts in his drawer and throws them into a suitcase.

he’s packing for a mission in europe with the avengers, and you’re here to say goodbye. you’ve been pretty quiet while peter gives you as many details as he’s allowed to. it’s always an honor when the team invites him on. he gets so stoked about it. you’re happy he’s happy and gets to pursue his passion, but you’ve noticed a pattern.

every time peter leaves the country with earth’s mightiest heroes, he comes back in worse condition than the last. it seems like they protect everyone except peter. he’s oblivious to the fact that the end result is always his suffering. he’s just glad to be there. really, he gets nothing in return except scars that never heal, not even a permanent spot on the team. 

so, you’re not thrilled he agreed to go.

“plus, i get to miss two weeks of school.” peter beams, getting onto his knees to zip the suitcase. “feels like a vacation almost.” “you like school, though,” you remind him. you’re sat at the edge of his bed while you watch, rather than help. he hops up again with a shrug. “i like vacations more.” “it’s not a vacation,” you mutter to yourself, then speak up.

“how are you gonna catch up? that’s a lot of missing assignments.” with that same innocent smile, peter walks over to you. he grabs both your hands and laces your fingers together. “i’m a fast learner. besides, ned said he’d help me.” you sigh, looking down at the floor so you don’t have to look at peter. “or, you could. make it into a little study date when i get back,” he suggests while playing with your fingers.

“i don’t even want you to go,” you finally admit and meet his sparkling eyes. nothing could ever dull them. “why not? you’re gonna miss me?” peter teases, pressing a couple of kisses to your palm. “you don’t have to. i’m pretty sure france has wifi.” he wiggles his eyebrows. “oui oui, mademoiselle, eh?” despite yourself, you giggle at his french accent and tug on his hands. he sits down next to you with a chuckle.

“nat has been giving me lessons,” peter explains, you quirking an eyebrow. “she speaks french?” “she speaks a lot of languages, actually. she’s so cool.” peter scoots closer to you and sets his hands on your waist, his voice dropping. “you’d love her.” your face twists up in confusion at the idea.

you don’t have anything against the avengers, obviously. they’re good people. you’re just not the biggest fan of them at the moment, considering the circumstances they’ve put peter under.

“peter, i don’t want you to go,” you repeat more seriously than before. your teeth sink into your lower lip. “and, it’s not because i’ll miss you.” “none taken,” peter jokes, implying there should’ve been a no offense. he then realizes how distressed you look, so he cuts it out. “sorry, sorry. i’m done now. how come?”

you take his hand again and hold it tight. “what if you get hurt?” you ask in the nicest way possible, out of care. “i don’t wanna see you hurting, pete. this mission sounds really... dangerous.” he runs his thumb over the back of your hand, his grin faltering a bit. “it is, but i’m ready for it. i’ll be fine.”

you’re not convinced yet. that line he likes to overuse isn’t enough to do the trick.

his eyes searching for yours, peter brushes a piece of your hair back. “have a little faith in me, babe.” “no, i... i do. i have the most faith in you, peter.” you find yourself frowning as he twirls your locks around his finger. “that’s not the problem.” peter’s voice becomes a whisper. “what is it, then? talk to me.”

you do the opposite because you’re afraid you’ll upset him further, which is the last thing he needs right now. your silence prompts peter to fill it. “would it make you feel better if i say mr. stark is keeping an eye on me?” he’s smiling sheepishly, you scoffing. “oh, like he kept an eye on you in amsterdam?”

the only eye related activity that happened there was peter almost losing one of his. he’d come back with an eyepatch and couldn’t see out of it for over a month. to this day, there’s still a bit of blood in it when you look close enough.

“i already told you, that was my fault,” peter grumbles, turning so he faces forward. “i didn’t listen to him-“ “who gives a shit? he’s the one who put you in that situation!” you blurt out. you’ve been way too patient this whole time, and now you’re reaching your breaking point. “you say that like i didn’t wanna be there.” peter clenches his jaw, still mostly calm.

“either way, mr. stark,” you mock what peter always calls him, “was supposed to keep you safe, and he didn’t. i’m scared it’s gonna happen again.” letting out a noise close to a growl, peter stands up from the bed. “you’re not listening to me, y/n. everything was fine. i just-“ you’re not in the mood to hear him make excuses, so you interrupt.

“do you know any other sixteen year olds who fight literal terrorists on their free time?” you rhetorically ask and get to your own feet. peter tries to walk away from you, only you follow him. “you’re a kid, peter, in case you forgot.” he spins around to give you a nasty look. “do you know any other sixteen year olds who stick to fucking walls?”

your heart starts to race from his sudden outburst. he’s scary when he’s mad, and he almost never gets mad at you. all you can do is blink dumbly. “didn’t think so,” peter spits. “this is what i’m supposed to do, help people. is that so wrong?” his breathing becomes ragged as his anger grows.

“what about you? are you helping yourself?” you speak softly, expecting an answer this time. “you’re not my fucking therapist, y/n,” he deflects the question. “i am your girlfriend, though. i care about you so much, you know that.” eyebrows furrowed in concern, you reach out for peter. he takes a step back. it doesn’t take long for tears to cloud your vision.

“i was excited to share this with you, and i thought you’d be happy for me.” peter balls his hands into fists at his sides. his voice stays low. “instead, you made it all about yourself. you can never let me enjoy team stuff.” you’re speechless, peter nodding as he lets his words sit. “thanks for the support.”

“you’re an asshole,” you laugh out bitterly and wipe under your eyes.

he didn’t mean to make you cry. he was so caught up in himself, he didn’t realize you were.

peter’s whole demeanor changes. “y/n, baby...” he attempts to put a hand on your cheek, but you hit it away. “get off of me. what did i just say?” you sniffle, your tone harsh in contrast. “you’re an asshole, peter.” he changes his mind about feeling bad. you’ve berated him way more than he did you, anyway.

“you should go. i have to be up early,” peter decides, even though he’d said you could stay the night. whatever, you don’t want to anymore. “fine,” you agree shortly. “i’m leaving.” he stands there while you collect your things, shoving them into your bag. you’re going slow enough so he has a chance to stop you. he doesn’t.

you pass by him on your way to his door, sucking in a breath. here’s your official goodbye. “see you later, peter. don’t die.” “mhm, i won’t,” he replies, his tongue poking at his cheek. with one more shared look between you two, you make your grand exit, no doubt informing may of her nephew’s behavior before you’re gone.

peter immediately regrets the way he talked to you, and that you’re leaving things like this. you were only trying to protect him. you’ll never be able to save the city like he does, so this is how you do it. he truly is an asshole for not seeing that.

frustration consuming him, peter kicks over his fully stuffed suitcase, its contents spilling out. he grits his teeth.

“fan-fucking-tastic.”

-

you don’t talk to peter the whole two weeks he’s gone except for some are you alive and yes texts. he’d called you quite a few times, and was sent to voicemail for all of them. he gave you the benefit of the doubt because of timezones.

it was actually because you declined, which peter knew deep down was the real reason.

he’s coming home from his mission today. you’re not sure when or if he plans on dropping by. you’re not sure you’d like him to, either. you don’t really get a choice in the end.

there’s a series of knocks at your window, at some ungodly time in the night. you’re all too familiar with this routine. it’s peter.

you slip out from under your covers, a scowl already painting your face as you go to the window. surely enough, peter is perched in front of it, clad in red and black. the suit must be new because you’ve never seen it. you push up the window and step aside so he can get through.

“thanks,” peter mumbles, climbing into your room less gracefully than usual. he’s sort of wobbly when he lands. “yeah,” you dully acknowledge. “how was france?” “uh, good. you know, lots of cheese and all that.” his voice is muffled from his mask, since he hasn’t taken it off yet. that’s odd. “i was talking about the mission, but cool,” you almost laugh back.

“the mission was... fine,” peter clarifies and scratches the back of his neck. he never describes something as simply being ‘fine.’ when the boy talks, he lectures. you’re starting to get worried. “that’s good. at least you didn’t die, right?” you say to lighten the mood. peter awkwardly chuckles. “haha, yeah. thank god for that.”

you hum and walk over to sit on your bed, peter staying where he is. “what time did you get back?” you wonder, a completely harmless question. “um, this morning,” he says in response, raising your suspicions. “why’re you still in the suit, then?” you squint at him. “i like it, by the way.” “thanks, y/n/n. i, uh,” peter trails off, no good explanations coming to mind.

you’re quickly developing a hunch for what what down. you wordlessly get up again, meeting peter by your window. he’s nervous to see what happens next. peter’s shoulders slump when your fingers land on his mask. you carefully lift it, revealing his face to you. his banged up, bloody face.

“surprise.” peter musters up a grin, you tossing the mask at his chest. you’re beyond angry now. it’s not at him, athough it is at his injuries. “please don’t be mad,” he nearly begs, you shaking your head. you go to leave your room for some space. peter’s fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling you back. “i should’ve listened to you, okay? i’m sorry,” he genuinely apologizes.

you still don’t say anything while you look over his beaten body. there’s a gash with stitches in it on his chin, a deep slice across the bridge of his nose, cuts littering his cheeks. he’s even got a busted lip for good measure. this might be the worst condition he’s let you see him in.

“you were right, y/n. i think... i think i’m gonna sit the next one out. it’s too much for me, clearly,” peter continues, fingers sliding down to lock with yours. “you should say you told me so.” “how... how did this happen?” you manage to get out instead. “the bad guy fought me,” he says with the hint of a smirk. “i won, though.”

it’s a relief that he’s handling this so well, even earning a laugh from you. that puts you more at ease.

“this is probably a dumb question, but are you okay?” you brush your thumb over peter’s cheekbone gently, avoiding his scratches. “not really. my face hurts a lot, and flash is gonna tease the hell out of me on monday.” his lips form a line, arms looping around your waist. it’s very much welcomed by you.

“you just spent two weeks trying not to die, and you’re worried about flash?” you snicker and draw a heart on his skin. peter shrugs a shoulder. “he’s so mean to me.” he brings you in closer to him. “besides, this is the normal kid stuff i should be focusing on.” you’re glad he finally came to terms with that. you’ve been saying it for the longest time.

you smile wickedly at him. “exactly. so is all that homework you have to make up.” peter lets out a breathy laugh, you laying your head on his chest. “i missed you,” he tells you quietly. “really wish i could kiss you right now.” “i missed you too, pete. so much,” you murmur into him. your hands settle on his biceps. “and, i forgive you.” “thanks, baby,” peter exhales.

“of course. once your lips are healed,” you pull back from his chest, making a kissing noise. “pucker up, lover- oh my god.” you’re looking up at him with wild eyes. peter gets reasonably startled from it. “what? what’s wrong?” “you... you’re bleeding!” you point at his stitches. he winces, touching the spot. there’s blood, alright.

“crap. do you have a bandaid or something?” peter gives you an apologetic smile. “mr. stark said i should cover them when this happens.” maybe, tony isn’t so bad after all. you nod and take him by his hand. “yeah, in the bathroom. come with me.”

peter sits on the edge of your bathtub while you patch up his chin. he tells you more about the fun parts of his mission, you placing the cinderella bandaid over his gash. you have those from a while ago and also regular ones. however, he preferred the princess design.

“you saw the real mona lisa? like, in person? that’s insane.” you grin, smoothing down peter’s bandaid one last time. “yeah, she’s even prettier up close.” peter returns the smile. “thanks for taking care of me, y/n. i swear i don’t deserve you sometimes.” now pouting at him, you crouch down so you’re at his level. “it’s the other way around, peter.”

“let’s just agree to disagree,” he concludes and tucks a stray hair behind your ear. “i love you, okay?” “i love you, too.” you press a light kiss to his bandaid, getting a giggle from peter.

yeah, it’s going to be hell finding replacements for his lips.

#peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker angst #peter parker smut #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine #tom holland smut

[wiener-blut]

concert report, I guess

Idk if anyone wants to hear this, but here’s my memories from the Lindemann show in Leipzig, 14th february 2020. Keep in mind, all of this is my own opinion, I don’t mean to attack anyone here, and that I could easily be mistaken with some, my memory loves playing games with me :^) Also if you’re still to attend a concert and don’t want to be spoilered, avoid this, obviously.

Waiting.

Drove by bike to the venue, arrived at around 1.30/2pm. Around 15 people were already there, waiting. They were really nice altogether. Into 3pm, people started to form a disciplined queue. Shitty weather, but at least no heavy rain. Cold, though. 4pm; I decided to drive back home to get rid of our bag (on my way to the bikes a man in his fifties asked me who’s playing tonight, pointing at the crowd, bewildered, I responded “Lindemann, front singer of Rammstein”, he was like “I read he was born here!!” super excited that he knew – he was cute lol so confused by how crazy people are); got into a rather unpleasant rainfall on my way back to the venue. 5pm; people were told to not stand on the street, so people gathered all around us, ignoring the built queue from before; assholes tried to cut in line. Got really crowded, people in front us were still being really kind and considerate, people behind us not so much. Last hour went by quickly, good company around us, save for some idiots. 6.30pm; security let us in – people from behind were pushing, not cool. Inside the venue, it was really chill, I even waited for @haifisch-ohne-traenen​, walked inside, people gathered around in the middle, low-key ran to our spot in the first row, right in front of Peter AW YEAH!!! Another wait til 8pm, filled with squeezing through people to get to the toilet and back, and chatting with the two guys behind us.

Jadu.

Shit, I’m so gay. She literally owned the stage so hard and her band mates were so cute and the keyboarder interacted with us a lot, he kept grinning at us whenever he saw us singing along; a perfect opening to an awesome night.

Aesthetic Perfection.

Surprisingly good tbh? Wasn’t the biggest fan after listening to some songs on youtube, but they’re a banger live. Really set the mood for the main act.

Lindemann.

Oh boy, where to start. First thing we saw was a video of Till in a diaper, with a bald head and the goggles from drsg’95 (at least I think it were those?), running and dancing around on the street, sucking his thumb (note: I reckon this video was shot a couple years ago). Actually hilarious, a surprisingly, and welcome, light hearted start to the show. I’m just gonna go through this song by song, because I suck at remembering things and need some kind of guidance lol.

Skills in Pills

Good song, good opener. The crowd went apeshit, it felt like the air was exploding, really unbelievably powerful. Peter was looking at us (naturally, because we were quite literally in his face), making faces, which he kept doing throughout the whole concert. Till was wandering across the stage, it seemed like he was noticing a lot of people, esp. in the first row, including us, huehue.

Ladyboy

One of my favorite Lindemann songs. Was so cool seeing and hearing it live, I went absolutely wild. I think this was the first time they changed places, and Jonathan (the one with the braided pigtails) came over to us, and whoops I fell in love.

Fat

Not the biggest fan of the song, admittedly. Still a good one. Good placement. The first time I glanced at the screen behind them, only did it one or two times more. I came here for the music, not some fucked up porn clips, I can easily find those on pornhub, thank you.

Ich Weiß Es Nicht

Never liked the verse, but the chorus is so touching to me, idk why. Sang my heart out at the chorus.

Allesfresser

Okay so I came prepared. I knew what was gonna happen. First half of the song was incredible, another fav song. Screamed my head off. Then, cakes were brought and ngl, it kinda took away from this awesome song for me. I really, really did not want to end up having cake smeared all over me by the first third of the concert. So I watched out for them, praying that they wouldn’t aim in our direction. Ended up with a few lil teeny tiny sprimkles on my arm and in my hair (that actually came from a cake Jonathan yeeted over our heads :3c), nothing too bad. Cake was actually delicious. Last cake was thrown by Sebastian, Peter’s son, Till was standing in the middle, in front of the drums, stealthily (so he thought) pointing to our side, but Sebastian didn’t catch it and threw it into the audience across from us and boy, you should’ve seen Till’s face lol. He looked so mad, internally. Also I was really happy to get to rewatch a clip from Hänsel und Gretel on the screen.

Frau & Mann

I have never seen a crowd go that hard to a song. Probably the loudest on the audience’s side. Was jumping a lot, Till came over a lot. Guess bobbing boobs really are an efficient Till-magnet. Actually, when the line “Kann dich nicht vergessen” (“Cannot forget you”) came on, Till pointed directly at us, like no fucking lie, we just froze. I know, I can’t be for sure, blah blah, but come on, just let me believe he pointed directly at us ok. There’s a video on youtube, where you see him pointing into the crowd at that line, that’s where we stood.

Knebel

Best choice they could’ve made regarding the placing of the song. Everyone was still hyped up from Frau & Mann, Knebel topped it. Starting out so calm and lovely, I really like the first half of the song. Beautiful lighting, they were so pretty in the blue light. Scream point hit, Lindemann hoaxed us into screaming MUND but made a break, Till shaking his head at us. Haha. Funny funny. Eh. I knew it was gonna happen, so it fell a bit flat for me personally, but okay I guess. Crowd went absolutely apeshit. So insane.

Home Sweet Home

Beautiful song, so heartfelt and a really good way to calm down after Frau & Mann and Knebel. Almost cried, ngl.

Cowboy

I. Fucking. Love. This. Song. Second time I looked at the screen and wow ngl, Till looked really good on the rodeo machine thing with his cowboy hat on lol. Also the song where Jonathan came over again and I made a heart with my hands and he smiled at me and :’)))

Golden Shower

Such a good song. My heart went big badum badum every time Peter shouted “Cunt” into the mic right in front of us, it felt like we were bonding just through shouting “Cunt” in unison lol. Also there was this part of them taking turns in raising their arms to the audience in time to the music, and I was laughing my ass off, because while Peter, Jonathan, and Sebastian all were perfectly in synch with the beat, Till always was a tad off and idk man, this shit was just so funny to me like c’mon Till, it’s not that hard.

Blut

Ah, yes. Like I said, we came prepared. We had our hoodies safely (and dryly) brought to the coatroom before the concert started so we were READY to get wet. The one thing I didn’t know though, the sprinkler system at the edge of the stage started right at the beginning of the song. I expected it to go off in like the middle of the song, or with the first chorus. So, sprinklers started, I saw the water coming. I thought “ah okay it’s just a little drizzle”, but boy, I was wrong. It felt like we were soaked after the second (and last) time we got sprayed. And actually? It was so nice. You know how concerts just make you all sweaty and drain your body from all water? I wouldn’t recommend trying to drink the water that was sprayed over us (it just had a weird smell to it, idk), but it was a welcome cooling, in that moment. Just imagine you feel like a little crop in the blazing sun, and then, finally, you get watered. Bye bye make up, but I just didn’t care lol. I don’t want to know what we looked like after that song. About the song itself; I didn’t mind the “interruption” at all, Blut is a decent song imo, but nothing more, so it didn’t bother me as much as the cake war during Allesfresser.

Platz Eins

Another top fav song for me. I’m not quite sure how to describe it, but Till and Peter climbing into that balloon thing and shuffling “out of reach” actually heightened my hype?? Like I could concentrate on really letting go during the song, screaming the lyrics out like there was no tomorrow. Also watching Jonathan and Sebastian’s little choreography was so entertaining. Jonathan being lifted up high also was something for the eye, at least for me :^) Also I remember the light show because it was gay. As in, so many vibrant rainbow colors. When Till and Peter returned to their starting point, Till climbed out, and Peter was holding his nose like Till just farted lol. The balloon started deflating and Peter mouthed an “OH NO” and when he climbed out, he made jazzy hands like “hell yeah guys I made it, I didn’t die in here”. Peter is a good man.

Praise Abort

Tbh, I don’t have many memories for this one. For me, one of Lindemann’s weaker songs, although it still slaps, don’t get me wrong. Just not one of my favorites. Only thing I remember is being happy about seeing the ballerinas from the mv on the screen in the background.

Fish On

Here we go again. After Praise Abort, I asked @haifisch-ohne-traenen​ if we wanted to change places, she looked at me like “You sure?” and I was like “Yeah, absolutely” – “You know which song comes next?” – “Oh. Nevermind lol”. I like Fish On, it’s my ringtone, but like with Allesfresser, the anticipation of the chances of getting hit by a fish kinda ruined the song for me. I couldn’t enjoy it as much. Also I was wondering why they needed so much time between Praise Abort and Fish On just to throw on this stupid raincoat. We successfully avoided all fish. A lot of them were thrown back on the stage by the audience, two of them hitting Till on the leg and arm, and one of them bowling down Till’s water bottles that stood in front of the drums. Also, when all fish were thrown, someone handed Till a last plate of fish pieces that he threw into the audience, but it slipped out of his hands and the plate went flying across the stage, shattering on a speaker and almost hitting the security guard that stood in front of us. I swear, that guard looked like he wanted to murder Till right at the spot lol (Also, this security guard was cute; he greeted us before the concert like “hi I’ll be your guardian for the next three hours”, he took pics of some people from the first row for them, and before the concert started, he got himself some gummy bears which he stuffed into his pocket to snack during the concert).

Ach So Gern

I was so mad about this?? But at the same time I was not?? So when they started Ach So Gern, they played the tango version and I was like !!! YES and I got all hyped up because I low-key hoped that, maybe, for valentine’s day, they’d switch the pain version for the tango version, but they didn’t. I guess if they HAD played the tango version though, I probably would’ve been mad I didn’t get to hear the pain version lol. The pain version definitely is more suited for a concert, I guess. And I still love it. Praise Peter. Seriously, he’s a god of music, just accept it.

Steh Auf

Incredible energy in the room when everyone’s screaming “Steh auf” on the top of their lungs. One of the most powerful songs live. Also Jonathan came over to us again and [insert heart eyes emoji].

Gummi

Okay, everyone slander me, but I really didn’t like this song as the finishing song. I don’t exactly love this song and I always skip it whenever I listen to F&M, so this was the only song I didn’t know the full lyrics to. It just doesn’t have either a specifically “deep” feeling to it, neither does it have the power I would expect from the last song of this kind of concert, if you get what I mean. For me, it was just missing this last, final BANG. Either that, or have a nice, calming song at the end, that will make people cry and think “fuck man, I don’t want this to end, but it’s been such a good concert”. Gummi just fell really flat for me as the final song. The happier I was when they put on an instrumental of Wer Weiß Das Schon, even if I was really hoping to see that one live and in full length, but you know, life isn’t a bowl of cherries. Also I certainly would have cried. Alas, I did almost cry when they took their bows and thanked us. Till’s voice was so soft and he sounded so sincerely humble and thankful. I don’t know whether it did have any impact on him or not, but he was born in this city, after all.

Till The End Teaser

So instead of showing the video of Till getting sucked off under the Rammstein stage (which I’m still not convinced is real, but that’s another story, I don’t want to delve into it) they put on the first like two minutes of Till The End. This is gonna sound super snobby and ungrateful, but I just turned away. Like I said, if I wanna watch porn, I’ll open pornhub. The two guys behind us, however, were standing there, eyes glued to the screen and their mouths were literally half open, no lie, it cracked me up so hard like really? Shit, it’s gotta be hard to be a person with a dick instead of a brain sometimes.

Bottom line.

Everything was worth it. The hours of waiting, the mediocre weather, driving to the venue by bike, the “fear” of getting hit by a cake or a fish. The concert was amazing, outstanding, mindblowing. I don’t want to compare it to my first row Rammstein experience, because they’re so vastly different bands, and I want to keep them separated. But man. This was probably the best valentine’s day of all time, by far.

#lindemann #lindemann live #text

[theoddcatlady]

Surrogacy

The reason this bullshit is happening to me is because I tried to to do a nice thing. That’s all there is too it.

Emma was the daughter of one of my mom’s friends. We knew each other as kids but our friendship was mostly we were forced to play with each other because her mom was over or my mom was visiting her and I got dragged along. After middle school, when I could finally watch myself, we didn’t even try to keep in contact.

But now there’s this brilliant thing called Facebook, where you can reconnect with anyone from your life, from your second grade teacher to that girl you used to play together with as kids. Or you can stalk their page to see how much better their life is than yours.

Emma was the one who sent the friend request, and because I didn’t want to be a bitch I accepted it. Emma Buddy was now Emma Smith, she’d gotten married to her highschool sweetheart and they’d both been raking in enough dough from their jobs to afford a yearly cruise. Last year’s they’d gone to Alaska. I didn’t even know there was cruises for Alaska.

But I figured what the hey, I’ve done okay for myself, gotten published a few times in various magazines, I had a German Shepherd named Bailey that could sit up on command and would fetch me tissues whenever I sneezed. I was fine.

Then Emma sent me a message.

Hey, Jennifer! It’s been such a long time since we’ve talked, I’m sorry we’ve drifted apart. You wanna meet up sometime next week for coffee so we can catch up?

I’m horrible at finding nice ways to say ‘I’d rather not thanks’ so I ended up saying sure, expecting us to make plans that we’d never follow through with and then we’d go on with our own lives.

We ended up meeting at a nearby cafe next Saturday.

Emma had grown up from the awkward pigtailed child with a stutter to a beautiful woman with a great smile and a contagious laugh. I had to tell my very gay heart to calm the fuck down as she was happily married to a man.

Said man was a guy named Adam, and he was an optimistic, upbeat fellow that worked as a doctor. They lived in a great neighborhood, with a nice backyard and plenty of space for the kids.

It was when she brought up kids that her laugh seemed to fade and she curled into herself, staring at her Chai Tea. I asked her what was the matter, expecting her to tell me that she was worried about how her career would fair with children or that she was having a little trouble conceiving.

A ‘little trouble’ was an understatement. Emma had found out just a few days prior that she would never have children naturally. She might’ve had everything in her life perfect for a baby, but her womb was never going to let that happen. Adam was also crushed by this news but he was already searching for alternatives- adoption, fertility treatments… and surrogacy. You can see where this is going.

Before I even thought about it I offered to be her surrogate. Around the edges I come off as rather rough, but if I can help someone, there is nothing that will stop me from offering that help.

Of course my help isn’t always accepted, but Emma wrapped me in a crushing bear hug and thanked me.

The process itself was pretty boring so I’ll just skip all that, but lucky for everyone involved my womb was ready for the whole ‘baby making’ thing and once everything was all set up, I was set to carry Emma and Adam’s baby.

The first few months were as expected- morning sickness, sudden bursts of crying, tender boobs, basically your average pregnancy. Emma and Adam were incredibly supportive, they handled all the doctor’s appointments, covered all the costs, and I got two new friends out of the deal.

Then I cut myself and all hell broke loose.

Emma and Adam were over having tacos at my place, I was dicing tomatoes and I’d just turned to laugh at a joke Adam made when the knife accidentally caught my thumb. I’m a klutz, so I just swore and shook off my hand, asking Emma for a bandaid.

Both of them went quite pale before Emma sprung up and had me sit down, asking Adam to get the first aid kit. I laughed and told them to calm down, it was only a cut, but Adam seemed about five seconds away from driving me to the emergency room.

My cut was cleaned and bandaged, and I was given strict orders to remain still and to avoid aggravating the wound as much as possible. Again, I insisted it was just a cut, but Adam looked dead serious as he made me swear to be careful. For a moment, I felt a little panic in my chest, but it faded as soon as Emma brought me a plate of tacos.

What, I’m pregnant, and I was hungry. Besides, I reasoned they were just nervous for my safety. They’d already confided in me that Emma had miscarried twice and I knew losing this baby would crush them.

A week later, I attempted to remove the bandage and get on with my life, the cut wasn’t too deep and it should’ve long been healed.

It looked just as fresh as it did back then. The moment I twitched, the wound burst open again and my hand was soaked in blood. Bailey, who’d just been napping on the other side of the room, shot up to her feet and growled. I’d never heard her make that sound before, she was such a gentle dog and she’d never been aggressive before.

I managed to bandage myself back up but I did call Emma and let her know what happened and asked if I should go to the doctor about this. Emma scolded me about removing the bandage but told me it wasn’t necessary to go to the doctor. Whenever she and Adam came to visit he’d make sure it was all right. She told me that wounds ‘don’t heal the same when you’re pregnant’.

At that point I burst into tears again but I blame that on the hormones.

After that I became incredibly paranoid about getting hurt again. I didn’t shave because I didn’t want to deal with a shaving cut, I let Emma handle the knives for chopping veggies when she came to visit, I was very careful. No matter what I did, that cut didn’t heal. In fact, it seemed to get worse, no longer resembling a cut but more of a gouge, ripping back open if I so much as peeked at it.

I was concerned, yeah, but I didn’t think it was something to panic about yet. Like Emma said, wounds take longer to heal when you’re pregnant, and I was pregnant. Emma was more of an expert on this than I was.

Then I began having the nightmares.

The first time I was surrounded by dark figures, it was so unbearably hot. I was tied up and face down while they all just stared and laughed at me. A voice hissed the words ‘devil’s wife’ into my ear before a red hot brand was pressed against my bare thigh. I screamed and cried as it burned, I know you’re not supposed to feel pain in your sleep but I did, I truly did.

When I woke up the next morning, exhausted and my throat feeling like sandpaper, there was a bruise right where I was branded. One of my neighbors knocked on my door and asked if I was all right, they’d heard me screaming last night.

I don’t know why they didn’t think of calling the cops if I was screaming bloody murder, but some people just don’t want to be involved I suppose.

There were more nightmares, more than I can count. I was whipped. Burned alive. Skinned. I’d wake up with injuries I’d have no memory of getting, bruises and scrapes that I’d have to immediately bandage up before I bled everywhere. Bailey used to sleep in the same room as me. Not anymore. She would remain outside the door and wouldn’t come in until morning.

People at work were genuinely concerned I was in an abusive relationship with how the bandages and bruises popped up. One even offered me a safe place to stay. I declined, saying I was just having bad dreams and that I probably needed to be tied down for my own safety soon enough.

I joke about that to Emma and she took me seriously. I threatened to clock her one if she actually put restraints on my bed. I then burst into tears again and told her how sorry I was for threatening to hurt her, that she was a good friend and I was being horrible, but then Emma screamed.

I was crying blood. It wasn’t that my tears were tinted red, I was crying literal globs of blood down my cheeks. I looked in the mirror and I looked like a fucking horror film.

I’m not going to lie to you- if I hadn’t already been past that point, I would’ve gone for an abortion and not felt guilty about it. Okay, I would’ve felt a little guilty, but clearly my body wasn’t as ‘baby ready’ as the doctors said it was.

I’m staying at Emma’s and Adam’s house now, ready to pop in little over a month and I think I’ve been had.

I don’t think I’m carrying their baby. I think I’m carrying something else. The nightmares have only gotten worse. When I sleep in Emma’s and Adam’s bed, sometimes I get a good night’s sleep, but it’s a toss up. Adam once said he’s doing all he can to protect me, but Emma shut him up before he could explain further. I think he’s feeling guilty about what he’s done to me. I’m not sure if Emma is.

At night I stare at my giant belly and wonder what’s truly inside. I feel like hell, constantly woozy and queasy. I know I’m going to give birth soon.

And I think the part that scares me most is that last night Adam confirmed what they’d thought might been the case earlier on.

I’m having twins.

#horror stories #scary stories #creative writing #creepypasta #writers on tumblr #my stories

[katmac95]

Why the fuck do I have PTSD?

Some first blog post, eh?

I’ll be using this blog to say things that are a bit too long for Twitter, but things I still feel the need to say.

First, I want to talk about my PTSD and why I have it. 

Some people don’t like talking about their trauma. I need to. I don’t enjoy talking about it, but it does make me feel freer when I do. It gets it out of my head and off my chest, so to speak. And that helps me.

This post may not be pretty but it’s not supposed to be. The stuff I’m going to share is all very raw and rough, so its delivery will reflect that.

*deep breath* 

I’ll start from the beginning, I guess.

From the time I was small, my father beat my mother. Often, he did this in front of me. My mom left my father with me in tow after sixteen months of marriage, and they were divorced shortly after. I still remember him coming after us with a knife when I was a baby. I remember times when I’d hide behind the toilet and refuse to let anyone touch me. I remember screaming at the top of my lungs because I was scared to death and that terrified energy had nowhere else to go.

When they divorced, my father was awarded partial custody of me by the state. God knows how a man with multiple convictions of DV and drug possession could get partial custody, but whatever. He did.

During his visitation weekends, he would often: hit me, swear at me, call me names, hit me with a belt or other objects, hit my dogs, break my things, withhold medical care (I once broke my foot under his care, and he refused to take me to a hospital), didn’t feed me (I taught myself to cook at 5 years old because of this, though he’d get angry if I tried to feed myself on the days when he wouldn’t).

And when he’d get new girlfriends, he’d beat them, too (again, in front of me). I remember one night, my dad was mad at his long-time girlfriend (they were off and on for most of my childhood) for one thing or another, and he slammed her hand in a door and broke it. I was in the next room, and I still remember her screams and the mangled mess he’d made of her hand. She filed a police report against him, and he went to jail for that.

I believe he’d been to jail quite a few times by the time I came into the world. When I was a kid, I remember him being incarcerated three separate occasions. I’m pretty sure two of those three were for domestic violence, the other for drugs. Or perhaps vice versa. I’m not sure, but his buddy would always bail his sorry, stupid ass out. Even as a kid, I remember hating that buddy, and wishing my father would stay incarcerated until I turned eighteen. At least then, I wouldn’t have had to see him.

Yeah, so, about the drugs... My dad’s drug of choice was meth. Or, well, his buddies referred to it by its street name, aka “crank”. He smoked it, sometimes around me. It smelled like sweat, cat piss, and cookies, in case you wondered. Now, meth has a rep for being one of the worst drugs on the market, with good reason.

First, there’s the rush. The person will wig the fuck out, but at least they’re “happy”-ish… It’s mania to the extreme. If depression is a low, then meth is high, HIGH, H I G H. Some people gouge their eyes out, others talk seven miles a minute and make you watch Alex Jones and read Andrew Anglin (yeah, my father was a keeper). He was never quite “gouge out his eyeballs” bad, but I do remember some weird manic shit (he once hooked a package of hamburger meat to some jumper cables from his car because the government had supposedly installed nanotechnology in this particular package of meat to spy on him).

Then would come the downward spiral when the rush began to fade. His mania would very quickly shift to irritability, anger, paranoia, and he would threaten to (or actually) beat the shit out of me for “looking at him wrong”. Or he’d threaten to kill himself if I did something he didn’t like. Or he’d threaten to drive us off a cliff, to kidnap me, or to [insert suggestion here]. Being with someone coming down from a rush is fucking terrifying, to say the least.

Finally, there’s the crash. The user will become so tired, they’ll spend entire days in bed. They don’t eat, they don’t acknowledge their responsibilities, they just kind of lie there like they’re dead for the whole weekend and get upset with you if you ask them to make you food (even though you’re a child and afraid of burning yourself on the stove because you’re not tall enough to actually reach it yet).

Through all this, my mom did pretty much nothing, despite the fact that I told her literally every single weekend that I was scared my father was going to kill me. I implored her to ask for sole custody (the fact that I knew that term at six should’ve been a clue that I knew what I was talking about), but she refused because she was scared of him. I was, too, only I couldn’t do anything about it without her help. CPS was called twice on him, but I wasn’t bruised “enough”. And my mother was too afraid to act, so nothing was done. Though I estranged myself from my father at fifteen, he had partial custody in the state’s eyes until I was eighteen.

Next up, my childhood babysitter, who was a right piece of work. Her children would steal my belongings and then claim they were theirs (I remember this little foam souvenir I got from Seattle that her kids took, and when I went to retrieve it, I was punished). This daycare provider’s methods of punishment were archaic. She and my father would’ve been great friends, I think. This woman would punish us by literally locking us in a 2x2 coat closet for hours at a time. We couldn’t sit, we had to stand. We couldn’t make noise, we had to “think about our actions”. And it was completely dark; even the gap under the door was covered. Now, I was kid who–with my trauma history–acted out a LOT (I mean, daily), so I dare say I likely spent more hours inside that closet than out of it when I was 3 and 4.

Oh, and when she was extra angry, she’d step on our hands or backs.

Yes, that sounds unbelievably barbaric. Her daycare facility was closed down in 1999 or 2000, I think, because a parent threatened to sue (or did sue, I’m not sure).

When I was young, my dad used to leave me with people I didn’t know in our neighborhood, while he… well, I don’t know what he was doing, but I’m guessing it involved something illicit. Anyway, this one time, when I was six, he left me with a teenage boy who lived across the way (my dad gave him a few dollars to babysit or whatever). And this kid had seemed nice enough. But, part of the way through the day, we rode our bikes down to the local creek to skip rocks. The boy threatened to drown me if I didn’t let him grope me. I’m not proud of this, but I acquiesced. He got mad at me for resisting, and threw me and my bike into the creek. My dad got mad at me for it.

And onto the next trauma, which is definitely in the same vein as the last. I mentally and emotionally cannot handle going into specifics here, but when I was ten, I was raped by a doctor. I was then groped by another doctor when I was eighteen. This is the only chunk of trauma I will keep relatively private, because it remains the most traumatic experience of my life and I just can’t talk about, it other than to acknowledge that it happened and that I’m terrified of doctors as a result.

Last one about my dad, I promise.

My dad would sometimes show up at places where I was (school, out to meals, etc.). These were places he was not supposed to be, mind you, as he wasn’t supposed to see me outside of visitation weekends. Sometimes, he used to threaten to kill himself/ me/ others/ pets with his rifle (the only reason I knew he had a rifle was because he kept threatening to use it). He would physically block my exits, always had to control where I was or who I was with, and liked to grab my wrists to physically restrain me. I mean, he was the epitome of abusive white male. My father is the most vile excuse for a human being that I have ever had the misfortune of knowing.

While we’re talking physical abuse, when I was a kid, I had a scout leader. This one time, when I was fifteen, she was mad at me for “mouthing off” when I refused to do something (a chore, because I’d been doing all the chores and I didn’t think it was fair that I was always working while my peers had all the fun–that was a valid complaint, btw). She got mad, came up on deck of the scout boat, grabbed me hard enough to leave bruises, dragged me down a ladder by the arm, and physically prevented me from going back above deck until I had done the stupid chore.

Because I felt unsafe, I left the program and tried to join another unit. But they turned a blind eye (because that’s scouting in America). I left the program altogether and forfeited all the awards I’d spent multiple years to earn. I failed my junior year of high school because of the resulting period of depression (I also dissociated the entire year of 2012, and don’t remember 99% of that school year).

Throughout all of this, my mother was... I mean, she tried in her way. I believe that. But when I sought comfort or told her I was suicidal, she’d say things like I was annoying or she should’ve aborted me. So, while I’m sure she cared in her way, she didn’t (or couldn’t) be what I needed in a mother. She was often just as angry and unpredictable as my father, though far less violent.

My mom also tends to shut down or change the topic if the current one makes her uncomfortable. She’d often give me the silent treatment as a kid, until I dropped whatever it was we were talking about. Or she’d yell at me/ call me names/ whatever. Unfortunately, many of these conversations had to do with my abuse, so these hurtful things often came during times when she knew I was already vulnerable. While I believe my mother cares and has always cared, she was not able to protect me as a child, and I don’t know if I can make my peace with that. She wasn’t able to be what I needed, and that has weighed on me for most of my life now.

I’ve never really had a safe adult in my life to turn to. I don’t know if anyone can be what I need, but I know I still need it. And that’s a tricky place to be. My therapist has said I should’ve been placed in foster care, and I’ve often thought maybe my life would’ve turned out different—better, even—if I had been. Though, I suppose there’s little point dwelling on this; I will never know, and I’ll have to be okay not knowing. I just wish I had a safe “chosen family” to kind of balance out all the chaos. Like an anchor, I suppose.

I have tried to kill myself three times, the most recent of these attempts in September 2017. I regularly struggle with nightmares, suicidal thoughts, shame, guilt, anger, lying (I tell people I’m fine when I’m not, or that I’m taking better care of myself than I am), trouble focusing, and the list goes on and on. I also curse like a fucking sailor, in case you hadn’t noticed (it’s angry energy that needs a place to go... I’m not punching anybody).

So, that’s why the fuck I have PTSD.