#yes i’m a (non) girl who likes footy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

steele-soulmate · 1 year ago

Text

Tattooed Wings, CHAPTER 502, Peter Steele & OFC, Soulmate AU

SUMMARY: Mary Claire Bradley meets her soulmate- literally- the famous Peter Steele of metal group Type O Negative. But will obstacles including trauma, stalkers, and toxic family members get in the way of their life?

WARNING: mentions of child rape (nothing graphic) PTSD, milk kink, soft smut, grinding, assault, fingering, hand jobs, blow jobs, 69, P in V sex, blood, noncon rape, violence, death, vandalism, graffiti, attempted kidnapping, break-ins, wild animal attacks, terrorist attack (sabotage) consensual impregnation, bareback, impregnation kink, creampies, terrorist attacks (shootings) hit and run pedestrian accident, precipitous labor, neonatal death

WORDS: 1479

“Good morning sweetheart. Merry Christmas Eve.”

I squeaked softy as I slowly woke up, arching my back as I stretched the stiff kinks out from my spine. I opened my mouth and smiled at the sight of my handsome older husband’s hazel blue eyes. He leaned in and pressed a whiskery kiss to my temple.

“Did you sleep well last night, sweetheart?” he murmured, gently rolling onto his back and dragging me to sit across his lap.

“I guess,” I meeped softly, my hand sinking into the weft of silver gray curls that grew over his burly chest. “Did you sleep well last night daddy?”

“Well enough.” He curled his fingers into my slender waist, clearly steeling himself to ask me a question. “Sweetheart, how are you?”

My lip trembled, my eyes developed a glassy coating and I just broke.

“I think I would feel better if I had a baby,” I whimpered, pressed my face into his shoulder. “I think Baby Violet Marie’s premature death was my fault.”

“Sweetheart-” Peter gasped as he cradled me tightly to him. “Sweetheart, oh my sweetheart… Baby Violet Marie’s death was not your fault. I want to you always remember that now.”

“I’ll try.” Well, it was now or never. “Do you want another baby?”

“Yes.”

His answer was so soft, I almost missed it.

“When?” I breathed, pressing a timid kiss to the underside of his jaw.

“My birthday,” he decided almost at once, nuzzling his nose to the mermaid tattoo behind my left ear. “Do you think you’ll be physically well enough for us to try again on January 4th?”

I smiled, a ray of sunshine finally touching my heart.

“January 4th,” I agreed with a smile. “Perfect.”

He pulled me in for a hungry kiss, the both of us engaging in sexually aroused hip thrusts and fiery kisses, hands touching everywhere are we both engaged in our first bout of non-penetrative post baby sex.

“11 days,” I giggled, having done the quick calculations. “Do you want to return to Iceland?”

“I’d rather spend the money more wisely,” he gasped, exposing his neck to my lips. “Like the kids’ college funds, bills, groceries, condoms…”

“Fair enough,” I hummed, giggling as his thrusting hips nearly sent me airborne. “My love, does it ever seem like I’m using you?” This was something that I have been wondering about for quite some time now.

“I think we both use each other,” he shrugged, grunting before going still as the front of his sweatpants grew damp. “You use me when you need to feel protected and when there’s a spider that you need me to relocated out back. I use you to cook food in the kitchen and to give me kisses and to make me smile. You are the yin to my yang, as the saying goes. I love you. never doubt that I love you.”

~xoXox~

When the two of us came back downstairs a little while later, we found Elizabeth and Katie, making breakfast- scrambled eggs, cinnamon French toast, hashbrowns, bacon and sliced fruit.

“Good morning, mommy! Good morning, daddy!” Katie chirped happily as she carefully sliced up fruit. “Did you sleep well last night?”

“We did, yes, Katie,” Peter rumbled as he poured himself a morning cup of coffee.

“How about you four?” I asked, taking notice of Elle and Jing, who wore their footie Christmas jammies and looked just like their girls.

“We really miss little girl,” she confessed as she dropped a sliced strawberry into the bowl of sliced fruit, pausing to let me snag a blueberry. “Like, me and Lizz Lizz knows that she’s off having a wonderful Christmas with her daddies, but she will always be our little sister, you know?”

“I understand,” I told her, pressing a motherly kiss to her temple. “It’s like where she will always be my daughter, in that same sense.”

“Hey mommy, who’s that coming up the driveway?” Elizabeth interrupted us, squinting out the window over the sink. I came up next to her, settling my hand onto her shoulder as I glanced outside.

A clean white Mercedes was rolling up to the front of the house, and I knew at once who was imposing on our family serenity at once long before my father and his trash digging little bitch of a wife stepped out.

“Peter, my father and his wife are here.”

“Let’s pretend that we’re not home,” Peter suggested just as Priscilla looked up and caught my eye.

“I don’t really think that we can do that,” I grumbled as they met around the front of the car before coming up to the front door and ringing the doorbell. “Gird your loins. Hopefully, we can get them out of here soon enough.”

I opened the door and skillfully blocked them from coming inside, instead inviting them to sit out of the front porch to talk. The inside of the house was a disaster zone, and I full intended on doing a deep clean in a few days.

“So what brings you two all the way out here?” I asked, Peter guarding the front door as he sipped at his coffee cup, in full beefcake mode as he greeted the cold, snowy morning wearing only his low riding sweatpants and carpet slippers and nothing more.

“Well, you’ve no doubt heard about Prissy’s fertility issues,” my father started off with, and I could only guess as to where all this was heading. “And we’ve agreed to give surrogacy a try. We want you to be our surrogate, Mary Claire Bradley.”

I violently recoiled back, almost as though I have been punched.

“No,” my wonderful husband answered at once, letting me go inside ahead of him. “Now get the fuck off my property and have a good day.”

“Peter, my son, can’t you just-” my once a beloved sperm donor tried to wheedle only to be shut down by a withering glare.

“NO,” he snapped, standing at his full height and towering above the small man while I cowered behind him with my arms wrapped tightly around his manly middle.

“If Mary Claire won’t be my surrogate, then maybe you can fuck a baby into me!” Priscilla whined, sulking like a child who’d never been told no before. “It shouldn’t be too much trouble, I mean you both already have a house full of kids already-”

Peter snarled, grabbing her by her wrist and pushing her off towards her husband’s car.

“NO means NO,” he huffed dangerously. “Now fucking leave.”

“And to think that I was going to name our first daughter Violet Marie…” she pouted, paling at the furious roar that Peter let out.

I began to cry uncontrollably as the front door slammed open and out galloped Baby Tommy, looking pissed.

“You made mommy cry!” he yelled, positioning his tiny two year old body in front of his daddy. “Fuk ou! Go away! Fuk ou! Fuk ou! Fuk ou! Fuk ou!”

Daisy came out after him, growling as she stood next to the little man. Mittens sulked out after them, her hair sticking out on ends as she puffed herself out to full fluffiness.

“Fuk ou! Fuk ou! Fuk ou! Fuk ou! Fuk ou! Fuk ou! Fuk ou! Fuk ou!” chanted Baby Tommy as he handed me to dollie, his effort at making me stop crying. “Fuk ou! Fuk ou! Fuk ou! Fuk ou! Fuk ou! Fuk ou! Fuk ou! Fuk ou!”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Peter trying not to laugh at his son’s temper tantrum, scooping the hissing and spitting little man into his arms as he herded everyone inside once more, shutting the door with a loud snap.

TAGLISTS ARE OPEN/ ASK BOX IS OPEN/ REQUESTS ARE OPEN/ PLOT BUNNIES ARE WELCOMED

If you liked this, then please consider buying me a coffee HERE It only costs $3!!!

PETER STEELE TAGLIST

@rock-a-noodle

@ch3rry-c01a

#Real person fiction (RPF)#Tattooed Wings #Peter Thomas Ratajczyk #Type O Negative #Vanessa Rose Pickings/ little girl #Special needs baby #Aria Bradley #Evie Bradley #Deaf #American Sign Language (ASL)#Elizabeth Ratajczyk #Alopecia #Thomas Joseph Ratajczyk/ Baby Tommy #Autism #Katie Ratajczyk #Down’s Syndrome #Baby Violet Marie #Neonatal death #Matching tattoos soulmate AU

1 note · View note

booksandwords · 3 years ago

Text

Kindred: 12 Queer #LoveOzYA Stories (Anthology)

Read time: 3 Days Rating: 4/5

Edited by Michael Earp Contains contributions by: Marlee Jane Ward, Erin Gough, Michael Earp, Jax Jacki Brown, Claire G Coleman, Nevo Zisin, Jen Wilde, Christos Tsiolkas, Ellen van Neerven, Omar Sakr, Alison Evans and Benjamin Law

Overall This is just a diverse collection of stories aimed squarely at young people. Most of the protagonists are in their mid to late teens or are trying to deal with issues from that point. I would argue that as usual, it is not diverse enough. No one is intersex, no one is ace or aroace, I don't think any of the main characters is trans. But what it does give us is indigenous and disability voices.

Rats by Marlee Jane Ward Lesbian Featuring narrator Michielle and interest Maita. It's so very Melbourne it uses our iconic places and the pace of our CBD to drive the story. It feels a bit like a slice of life for the chaotic Michelle. Honestly, it's quite an effective opening.

In Case of Emergency, Break Glass by Erin Gough Lesbian or Bisexual, Awakening Featuring narrator Amy and interest Reg. Amy is 16 and kissing her boyfriend is uninspiring to her. While catering at a fancy party she meets Reg. Amy and Reg have this perfect little space that is in almost direct opposition to everything else Amy is with in the story. It is all presented so well the awakening, the flight.

Bitter Draught by Michael Earp Gay Featuring narrator Simeon and interest Wyll, with a cameo by Wren an nb Witch. It's a simple-ish find the witch save the girl story. It feels like historical fantasy. It's a well-constructed story short story working well with trope and genre limits, expectations. But it is oh so bittersweet.

I Like Your Rotation by Jax Jacki Brown Lesbian, Disability Featuring narrator Jem and interest Drew. Both Jem and Drew are in wheelchairs, though different kinds of chairs. The story kinda focuses a bit on the otherness and exclusion that can appear even in queer safe spaces. That idea of protection. It ends in a perfect place of both pain and optimism.

Sweet by Claire G Coleman Non Binary Featuring narrator Roxy and their mad bunch of friends. This is set in a dystopia where gender is illegal, of note is race, Roxy and all her friends are indigenous. Sweet as a story is brilliant playing well on role reversal and fear. The characters are captivating, particularly Sweet herself and Roxy. You want to see them all thrive. Even in such a short story, there are indications of developed lore, Coleman has clearly thought it out well.

Light Bulb by Nevo Zisin Non Binary or Agender Featuring a nameless narrator. Light Bulb in one phrase... positively weird. It uses a lot of symbolism and metaphor. This is the kinda one that you just has to be read. But it is good.

Waiting by Jen Wilde Bisexuality, Lesbian, (lowkey Autism) Featuring narrator Audrey and interest Josie. Audrey is autistic and bi, a fangirl, from what I know iconic Jen Wilde. This has one of my fave quips about fandom vs sport. "Can I ask you something?" [...] "What's the difference between us being cosplay, and you going to the footy in your team's jersey?" [...] "I'm genuinely curious about this," she continues. "We're here as fans, some of us cosplay. And you're going to the football as a fan, in your own kind of cosplay" - Josie. I have removed the idiot boys' responses because they are less than useful. This one is coming of age brilliance that really makes me want to read Queens of Geek. It's relatable to an adult that community vibe that cons present like nothing else. Yes, like those who are queer we are outsiders nearly everywhere else but get us together and it is like home. A home made up of a loud, eclectic family.

Laura Nyro at the Wedding by Christos Tsiolkas Gay Featuring narrator Jack and boyfriend Paul. I'm going to be honest this is the story that stayed with me. This is the longest of the stories at 30 pages, Jack and Paul are also the oldest protagonists. Set in Victoria with at least one migrant protagonist, Serbian Paul. I'm going to put the rest under spoiler because this goes heavy fast.The focus of this is the queerness as in the otherness of having a weight over you, something not about you. It's the power of forgiveness, the impact of the other on family units. I know it is a short story but the story does just end.

Each City by Ellen van Neerven Queer Featuring an unnamed narrator and interest Talvan. Set in a slightly dystopian future both main characters are indigenous. The protagonist is running for her safety after gaining government attention as an activist. It's an odd story but I couldn't be more white if I tried, this isn't my culture.

An Arab Werewolf in Liverpool by Omar Sakr Gay Featuring narrator Wafat and interest Noah. Unsurprisingly this is supernatural fiction but also adds the cultural other of Islam. It's fun and will likely speak to people of faith. Not just Islam but other faiths as well. I do like it for its variation, it's nice to have the supernatural element covered.

Stormlines by Alison Evans Non Binary Featuring narrator Marling and interest New. These two use ve and they pronouns respectively. This is not a romance, it is a story of home. It's effective storytelling if slightly predictable. Alison pushes a neutral pronoun agenda which is always a welcome approach. It gives people permission, options, freedom, license.

Questions to Ask Straight Relatives by Benjamin Law Gay/Queer Unlike the other stories in the collection, this isn't a fictional story. It's a mix of a personal story and advice for people of any identity. "Coming out as lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, intersex or queer can be a massive relief, but it also usually marks the start of having to answer questions from straight people for the rest of your life."... for the rest of your life. now isn't that the scariest part of this coming out thing. Honestly, this section contains just plain brilliant advice for queer people of identity at any point in their life. I can see why Michael Earp positioned it last in the book.

3 notes · View notes

buckleyy--diazz · 5 years ago

Note

Love your writing! Not sure if you take requests, but any chance you would do a smut one shot with frat cocky Niall? He's a known player, while y/n is a good student and she hates him. He's always trying to charm her, but she always denies him. But then she goes to a pool party, and he is there in his swim trunks, and he's all tan and his muscles are glistening. He works his charm on her, and then he makes her suck him off. She's gagging on him and he's dirty talking and boasting non-stop.

FINALLY! It's ready! Sorry it took so long, I admit I had a major writer's block in the middle of writing it and also work was (is) completely crazy at the moment. I hope you will enjoy it and that I did justice to your prompt.

°•°•°•°

Once again Niall walked into the lecture hall late, a love bite high on his neck that he hadn't even tried to hide and a girl on his arm. Love bite you were pretty sure had not even been given to Niall by the girl he was with right now. Niall leaned in and pressed a kiss to the girl's cheek and whispered something in her ear that made her blush bright red. She giggled loudly and you rolled your eyes.

"Mr. Horan, could you please stop disrupting my lecture and take a seat. I'm sure this lovely lady also had class to attend since she is not one of my students."

A few laughs erupted around you and Niall joined in. The girl left the room, her cheeks still red but probably from the embarrassment of being called out in front of so many people. Niall climbed the stairs two by two and sat right next to you. You sighed. You loved to sit in the back completely because it was usually more quiet and easier for you to concentrate.

"Hey babe, got a spare pen for me?" Niall whispered once the professor started talking again.

"Don't babe me Horan," you replied without even looking at Niall. You hated him and the kind of person who thought they could charm everyone in doing what they wanted.

"Darling? Pet? Petal? Which one should I use then?"

"You could start by using my actual name," you said before throwing a pen on the desk in front of Niall.

"Thank you, Y/N."

The way he said your name so softly made your heart skip a beat and your cheeks felt hot. You hoped Niall was not looking in your direction anymore because the last thing you wanted was for him to notice the effect such simple words had had on you. You knew exactly who Niall was and what his reputation was. He was always parading around Uni with different women on his arm, you rarely saw him with the same one two times so even if Niall was gorgeous and very tempting you absolutely hated him and would not entertain the fantasy of being with him. This is what it was, a fantasy that maybe you indulged in when it was late at night and you were alone in your dorm room but no one needed to know that, especially not Niall. There was no way you would become just another number in his phone and someone he wouldn't talk to ever again. You were also hating yourself for the way you were feeling about him. It was all very confusing.

Niall put his shoulder bag on the desk and he took his laptop out and a bunch of pens fell out of his bag.

Niall saw you looking at the pen and winked at you. You groaned and tried to concentrate on the lecture.

"Darling," Niall shouted behind you in the empty hallway leading to your dorm. You kept walking, ignoring him and hoping he would leave you alone or maybe he was talking to someone else you had not noticed.

"Please don't ignore me, it's breaking my heart." You rolled your eyes, he was definitely speaking to you then. Niall walked past you and stopped dead in his tracks in front of you.

"What do you want?" You asked curtly because you really had no time to spare today and especially not for someone like Niall.

"Come to a party with me?"

A party, Niall was insane and this was another reason why you hated him so much. You had to work your arse off and study for hours and hours to have a good grade. You had absolutely no time to party in the middle of the week or even on the weekend. Sometimes you would go out for dinner with your friends but needed to be back by 9 so you could study for a few hours before bed. Niall could show up hungover, on two hours or less of sleep and ace the exam. This was unfair.

"A party? Niall it's Wednesday night and we have an exam tomorrow morning at 8. All I'm gonna do tonight is study and take a shower."

Niall laughed.

"Breaking my heart again but maybe one day you will say yes. Well I hope you have fun studying and think of me when you take that shower," he replied with a wink before leaving you alone in the empty hallway. You looked around yourself in confusion after Niall disappeared, wondering if what happened had just been a fever dream. You touched your forehead but your temperature seemed normal. You resumed your walk to your dorm room hoping no one else would bother you.

"It's been going on for weeks now," you said to your friend on the phone. You were on your way to the grocery store to buy a bottle of wine and your favourite Ben and Jerry's ice cream. The semester was finally over and you finally had time to relax. No exam to stress over, nothing. Now it was the time for ice cream, wine and catching up with your favourite Netflix show.

"And you always say no?" replied your friend, "I don't know if I am proud of you for being able to resist him or if I want to smack you on the head for resisting him. He's hot and obviously into you."

"He's not. Or well he is but until I stop resisting his charm and then what? I sleep with him and he never gives me the time of the day ever again?"

"I thought that's what you wanted anyway? You always say how annoying he is and how much you hate him. Hate sex is hot and passionate and it's a win-win situation. You get a good shag and Niall stops bothering you. Unless that's not what you want. You actually love the attention he's giving you don't you?"

"Sorry my phone is dying, I will call you back later."

You hung up and dropped your phone at the bottom of your purse. Immediately it started ringing again. You ignored it and walked into the grocery store walking directly to the freezer to stock up on ice cream. You hated the way your best friend was able to read right through you. So what if you liked the attention Niall was giving you?

"Are you following me?" A voice said behind you. You turned around and really? Why did you have to see Niall everywhere you went? This week only you had ran into him at the library, the coffee shop, the pharmacy and now the grocery store.

"I could ask you the same thing," you replied and Niall laughed as if you just said the funniest thing.

"Maybe I am, you'll never know."

"If you're trying to charm your way into my pants you can stop now it's never gonna work."

Niall took a step closer, you were toes to toes and you could feel the warmth his body was radiating. He licked his lips slowly and your eyes involuntarily followed the movement. Niall smirked and you knew you had been caught.

"Are you sure about that?" Niall asked, his breath hitting your face and it took you all your willpower to not kiss him. "Seems like you want me as much as I want you but if you really want me to stop, if it's really what you want then I will. Have a good day Y/N, I'll see you around, maybe" said Niall before turning away and leaving the store.

Days went by and it's like Niall had disappeared. Sometimes you would walk past the park and see his friends playing footie and you would catch yourself stopping to see if Niall was there but he never was. You had no idea where he was but it's not like you were going to ask his friends. You hated him, you reminded yourself before walking away. You knew you should have been happy, that's exactly what you wanted.

Your phone dinged bringing you back to earth. You reached for your phone and saw it was your friend Sam who has texted you.

"Get your bikini ready, pool party at Gavin's I'm coming to get you."

You sent a reply back saying you'd be ready and got out of bed. You did not really feel like partying and wish you would have said no but Gavin was one of Niall's good friends and a part of you was hoping to see him. What was wrong with you? You hated him, you had always hated Niall, yet here you were getting ready anyway.

You put on your favourite yellow bikini and slipped on a black dress. You grabbed your purse on the hook behind your door and went outside to wait for your friend.

As soon as you walked in Gavin's backyard you knew Niall was there. There was a circle of girls around him laughing at whatever he was saying and you felt something bubble in your stomach. Jealousy supplied your brain and you needed a drink because you were not jealous of these girls. You were not, you hated that guy you reminded yourself. You walked inside and got a beer from the kitchen, some friends you hadn't seen in a long time were there and you chatted with them for a while. You were sitting on the kitchen counter, nursing your beer for over an hour when Sam walked in and replaced it with a fresh cold beer.

"You should go talk to him instead of glaring from afar."

"I'm not!"

"Believe me you are," replied Sam, laughing.

You jumped down the counter, ignoring Sam shouting your name, to go outside to enjoy the sun. It was a beautiful day and you were at a pool party, you were not going to sit inside and hide just because Niall was there. You put down your beer on a table nearby and removed your dress before folding it nicely and putting it next to your beer. You jumped into the pool, letting the water cool you down. You swam around for a while until you found a pool noodle and you let yourself float, enjoying the warm sun on your body. Your eyes were closed so you didn't notice Niall running toward the pool and jumping right beside you. You startled when water hit you in the face and you opened your eyes to glare at whoever had done this.

Niall. Of course it was him.

"Y/N, long time no see!"

"It's been eight days Horan."

"Been counting them I see," Niall laughed, his eyes crinkling because of the sun, and you regretted the words that lefted your mouth immediately.

Niall swam closer to you and leaned against the side of your noodle making you lose your balance and go underwater. Niall splashed you and you dunked him under the water. He came out laughing and started swimming on the other side of the pool.

"Catch me if you can," he shouted over his shoulder as he pushed himself up with his forearms to get out of the pool. His biceps were bulging and water droplets were running down his body. He looked delicious and you wanted to chase the water with your tongue, his tan skin glistening under the sun. You swam to the pool ladder and started running after him. You had no idea why you were chasing him, you knew this was exactly what he wanted. Niall disappeared through the backyard door and you followed the wet traces his feet lefted on the floor through the house.

A door closed on your left, you turned the handle and pushed the door open only to be met with a screaming girl you didn't know. Oops.

"Sorry," you muttered and closed the door. Niall laughed and your turned around to see him take the direction of the bedrooms. This was a bad idea, you knew if you followed him there you might not resist him any longer.

"Searching for me?" Niall asked, a cocky smirk playing on his lips.

"Yes," you replied as you walked closer to him and pushed him in the bedroom and closed the door behind you, "I've had enough of your little games," you said pretending you still had an ounce of power and control over the situation when you and Niall knew he had won.

Niall chuckled and pushed your back against the closed door, his arms on each side of your head.

"Oh really? Could have sworn you were the one chasing me," he said his lips mere millimeters away from yours, his hot breath was hitting your face. His eyes searched for yours and you nodded slightly.

Niall closed the gap between your mouths and you kissed him back immediately. Consequences be damned you wanted him and you were tired of denying it. His tongue was warm against yours and you moaned low in your throat. Your body arched against his and you hooked up your leg on his hip, trying to get some friction against your core. Niall moved his hands from the wall, putting one on your hip and the other under your thighs, holding it in place as he rut against you. He groaned and you had never heard anything hotter than that. Your head fell back against the wall in a loud thud, leaving your throat exposed. Niall kissed his way down your neck, sucking on the skin under your ear.

His hand moved from your hip to your side, sending shivers all over your body. When he reached your breasts Niall pushed away the fabric of your bikini top exposing your breasts to the cold air in the room. You shivered and Niall palmed your left breast gently before leaning in to take your nipple between his lips, making you whimper low in your throat. Your pussy throbbed between your legs, it had been too long since someone had touched you like that.

"Fuck babe, I knew you'd look gorgeous like that," whispered Niall as he moved his hand down your side, his fingers slowly trailing on your skin, making you shiver again. His fingers were calloused and felt amazing.

"Wanna know how you'd look even more gorgeous?" Niall asked, his mouth moving on your neck.

"H-how?" You stuttered.

"On your knees with your lips wrapped ar-"

You didn't even let Niall finish his sentence before you dropped onto your knees, tugging on his swimming short hastily. His cock sprang free, hard and red. Precum was already leaking at the tip and your mouth watered. You flicked your tongue at it to taste him and closed your eyes.

"Fuck! Someone's eager," laughed Niall and you glared at him from under your eyelashes.

"Shut up," you said before taking Niall's length into your hand and pumping it a few times and spreading the precum with your thumb around the tip. You licked at the tip again before closing your lips around it. You bobbed your head up and down a few times to get used to the girth. Niall was bigger than anyone you ever been with and the stretch of your jaw felt so good. You pulled away and swirled your tongue around messily. Niall slid one of his hands in your hair and grabbed a handful, not pulling yet but enough to make you feel a sting on your scalp.

"Look at you, I didn't even have time to finish asking and you were on your knees for me," said Niall and you took him back into your mouth. Your head was bobbing up and down rapidly and you had spit dripping on your chin from the corner of your mouth.

"Think you can take me deeper, love?" Niall asked as he pushed his cock further down your throat, making you gag but you kept sucking.

"Fuck! Look at you gagging on my cock. It's like you were made for this babe. Made for my cock, taking me so well," Niall praised. Usually Niall's words would have offended you but right now all you wanted was for him to come down your throat. His words were only making you suck harder. You didn't care, you kept gagging and Niall seemed to like the sound because everytime you gagged he groaned.

Niall tugged on your hair, pulling you away from his cock and took your chin between his fingers, he swiped your bottom lip with his thumb.

"I knew you'd be a little freak in bed, good girls are all the same," Niall laughed.

He took his dick in his hand, rubbing the head against your shiny lips. You opened your mouth licked at the slit, gathering precum on your tongue, waiting for him to push it in again.

"Can I fuck your mouth?" Niall asked, "Please? I really want to fuck your pretty mouth."

You nodded enthusiastically and Niall guided his cock slowly in your mouth. Your throat contracted around the head and Niall growled.

He started to fuck your mouth rapidly, talking non-stop.

"I bet you touched yourself thinking about this. How many times did you push your hands down your knickers thinking about me? Late at night, your cheeks red and panting. Maybe you used a toy, imagining it was my cock fucking you good."

You moaned around Niall's cock his words going straight to your pussy. It was aching with want. You fisted your hands on your thighs trying to wait as long as you could before touching yourself.

"I want to come all over your pretty face and tits, I'm sure you would like that. Everybody will know what we did when we go back downstairs. Your lips are so red and puffy, your hair a mess. I always knew you'd be gorgeous like that."

"Your lips feel so good babe, I'm gonna come soon," Niall said as he slowed his thrusts. You pulled away to take a deep breath and Niall chuckled. He caressed your cheek with his hand and smiled softly, too soft for the situation.

"I can't wait to fuck you properly, in my bed. You'd look beautiful tied to my bed, letting me do whatever I want . Could spend hours teasing you until you beg me to fuck you. Would you like that?"

"Yes," you replied, your voice hoarse, not sounding like you at all, surprising yourself before taking Niall back in your mouth, using one of your hands to stroke what wasn't in your mouth. You hollow your cheeks and sucked harder.

"Touch yourself for me pet, c'mon I know you want to. I want to see you touch yourself."

Sliding your hand between your legs you lightly touched yourself over your swimsuit before pushing it to the side and pushing two fingers between your wet folds. You were so wet you could feel yourself drip on your fingers. You moaned loudly when you brushed the tip of your fingers against your aching clit. It was throbbing and you knew you would not last long. You moved your fingers lower, pushing them inside of you easily.

"Fuck babe, you look so hot like that. I'm gonna come," warned Niall before he spilled down your throat. You kept sucking lightly until he stopped coming and started to soften in your mouth. You swallowed all you could but when you pulled away some of Niall's come driped down your chin. You let yourself fall back against the door and pushed your legs open giving you more room and started pumping your fingers hard and fast. Your head was thrown back against the door and you were moaning steadily.

Niall let himself fall on the floor next to you and opened his legs wide, "C'mere babe," he said, helping you to move between his legs. Your back pressed against his chest. One of his hands moved to your exposed breast, palming it gently, rolling you nipples between his fingers. Your head fell on his shoulder, exposing your neck. Immediately Niall started to kiss it while his other hand was sliding down your body until it reached your pussy. His fingers grazed over your clit making your whole body convulse. Niall chuckled in your ear and pushed two fingers inside of you, your walls clenched around his fingers when Niall started moving them in and out in a slow and torturing pace.

"Niall, Niall fuck, please fuck."

"What is it babe, what do you need?"

"I need to come," you moaned and Niall pressed the pad of his thumb against your clit.

A long cry escaped your throat, "fu-uuck!"

Niall sped up the pace of his fingers, hitting your g-spot every time.

"C'mon babe, come on my fingers."

A familiar warmth spread in your stomach, your breath was ragged and you would not last long. Niall pressed hard on your clit again and you clenched on his fingers again your orgasm hitting you full force, your legs thrashing and hips bucking uncontrollably. Niall kept his fingers moving until you pushed his hand away. He laughed and you watched him wipe them on his swimming shorts.

You stayed between Niall's legs for a moment, trying to catch your breath, your head on his shoulder, your nose pressed to the side of his neck. You just had sex with Niall Horan, the only thing you always said you would never let happen. You needed to leave. You tried to get up on your feet but Niall tightened his arms around your waist, keeping you between his legs. Niall was drawing circles on your stomach and you shivered.

"M'tired," he mumbled.

"We need to go back to the party, our friend will search for us."

"Don't care."

Niall moved first, awkwardly sliding his leg behind your back to get in his feet. He put his swimming shorts back on and extended his arm to help you up. You tucked your boobs into your bikin top, suddenly feeling weird being half naked in front of him.

You turned to open the door but Niall stopped you, boxing you against the door like he had done earlier.

"How about we do that again sometimes?" Niall said, taking a step closer, your bodies millimeters away, "Next time I want you to come on my dick," he pressed a kiss on your neck, "or maybe on my face," he added, his lips moving against the shell of your ear. You bit your lips and nodded.

It was a bad idea, the worst idea you could ever agree to and you knew it. Maybe you would regret it but right now you didn't care.

#Niall Horan #Niall Horan fic #Niall Horan fanfiction #Niall Horan x You #Niall Horan x reader #Niall Horan fluff #Niall Horan smut #Niall fic #Niall fanfiction #Niall x You #Niall x Reader #Niall fluff #Niall smut #my writing

129 notes · View notes

iampikachuhearmeroar · 6 years ago

Text

the thing about having a condition that makes your fine motor control skills and gross motor skills/hand-eye coordination hella bad is that it’s hell going through school. like in sport I was consistently told that I was a failure bc i struggled to catch a ball and I only caught on how to use a skipping rope by year 4/when I was 10 years old. to my teachers I never “trying hard enough” or “always letting down the team” in games like basketball or footy or god knows what else.

then when it came to basic handwriting, I was always made the example of “THIS IS NOT WHAT TO DO IN YOUR BOOKS CHILDREN!!!” in front of the class bc i wrote over the margins of the pages in my book to keep my writing in the lines, my writing wasn’t small and neat like every other girl’s HW. instead mine was clumsy, loud and messy, too large to be any type of acceptable. so I was always told that I “wouldn’t get anywhere” if I continued to write like that. my maths book was a fucking nightmare to look at bc I couldn’t write in a straight line without lines on a page. I couldn’t draw shapes (or even trace shapes) properly. I struggled to rule straight lines for tables/graphs and shit in maths. but instead when I fought back to my teacher’s ripping my pages out bc it “WANST NEAT ENOUGH” with “I literally can’t help it though!!! it’s in my (fucking) medical stuff!!! IM TELLING THE TRUTH!!” i was told to go outside and think about the consequences of talking back to my teacher. when all I wanted was to be believed, for fucks sake. science in high school was much the same.

in year 6, we had had to do a sewing project. my hands shook too much to put the needle through the holes on the cross stitch thing that we had of a penguin. I couldn’t get the needle through the cross stitch thing in general or get the thread through the needle etc. all bc my fine motor control skills were awful. but what did I get from my teacher? the “you’re such an embarrassment/failure” speech. “everyone should be able to do this by 12. what’s wrong with you? you failure of a child. im embarrassed for you. everyone else can do it, why can’t you? you’re just being lazy and you’ll never be a real woman bc you can’t sew! what an embarrassing thing for you!” when I had to have my teacher and other students do it for me. like sorry I have a condition that makes me unable to perform ~womanly~ duties miss sanderson. go fuck yourself. and also i’m pretty sure we’re in the 2000s and not the 1800s? so sewing is something I don’t really have to KNOW by 12 years old????? fuck off.

when it came to high school it got worse. my year 7 geography teacher (who I also had in year 9 for commerce) constantly made it seem like I was less intelligent than everyone else just because my handwriting was messy and also because i struggled to draw maps to scale. again, when I fought back with my “I can’t help it it’s medical” I was branded a liar and told to shut up and go outside to reflect on my behaviour. although I’m actually leaving out how the school I moved to (which was part of the catholic education office etc like my primary school) refused me access to the computer that the primary school had given me the year previously, SPECIFICALLY to help me with high school. I have no idea if it had anything to do with funding or whatever like they ~said~ it did.... but I always felt like they were too lazy to help me. like i was just meant to get bullied by staff lmao. generally from every other teacher I got: “will you EVER take ANY pride in your work? ugh, you lazy kid 🙄.” in a super snide voice. anyway moving on.

next comes art and tech (like wood-shop/metal-shop etc for americans). in year 7 art, I was screamed at by the male teacher I had bc I couldn’t weave a fucking wicker basket. “YOU’LL NEVER AMOUNT TO ANYTHING IF YOU CAN’T WEAVE A BASKET!!! YOU STUPID CHILD!!!” like???? I don’t even need to know how to weave a basket mr hellick but what-the-fuck-ever. i struggled to get the fronds together etc of the basket etc, so again i had to get my friends to help me or that teacher to help me weave it. like. you fucking asshole, im trying but I literally cannot do it. in year 10 art, i was made to finger paint my rock-pool painting bc “you just have no control over a paintbrush, do you? ugh when will you learn to be neat 🙄? also honey you have to wear gloves while doing it!!! you don’t want to get it all over your hands or yourself!” like yes I agreed bc it was fun and messy (ngl).... but when everyone else was doing intricate shit that 15/16 year olds can and should do, i was the 5 year old.... i was treated like a toddler just because i couldn’t sketch properly and couldn’t hold a paintbrush ~properly~ or some bullshit. and also the paint is non-toxic. and im not stupid enough to drink it or whatever the fuck you think im going to do... for the reminder about wearing gloves (also it was partly health & safety but still). they usually mocked my artwork anyway and called it ~abstract in a way~ bc i couldn’t draw well enough to make anything distinguishable, unlike my sister who for some teachers was an art prodigy. “why can’t you draw like your sister? her art was always good!” um probably bc my sister doesn’t have my condition and she’s always been good at drawing? and also i’m just not my sister? god. fuck you.”

then we get to tech (woodshop/metalshop etc). in this typically all male environment (for teachers anyway), my work was again marked out as “what not to do!” in year 7 tech. the teacher I had in that always mocked that my cutting of wood wasn’t “straight” and that it never matched up etc. “like what grade are you even attempting to pull with that piece of garbage?” fuck off, mr finkelstein, ugh. in metalwork I could only saw my chimes which turned into crowbars for like 5 minutes each bc it made me tired in that interval, while everyone else could saw for like 20 minutes straight. so I had to get other people to saw for me from time to time, so in the end that project was never finished. I was made to look lazy when I didn’t have the stamina or the strength for that assignment. finally there’s plastics, where I couldn’t use the glue gun or the soldering iron bc I both shook too much and my hand was too weak to use it after some other students in my class. so again, my friends had to solder for me or do the glue gun for me. I technically failed that subject too bc I “wasn’t engaged enough” or w/e and also bc I ended up burning my leg by loading a glue gun over it 😅.

by the back end of high school I was straight up told that I was “going to fail” externally marked exams (the school certificate that not longer exists and the HSC) bc they simply wouldn’t take the time and effort to read my work. do you know how degrading that is? like fuck, excuse me while I don’t fucking bother to study if they’re going to straight up fail me (which never happened anyway.) but at least the public school i moved to actually fucking fought for me to get a computer for my end of high school (hsc) exams, where as the catholic school just went on with the “you’re going to fail your school certificate writing the way you do!” and tried to get me to use a writer (another person obvs) as did the public school. but god it’s fucking impossible no matter how much you study, to articulate your thoughts under exam pressure to someone else. just let me write lol.

but my point is that, in all of these subjects I was trying harder than most people (not counting sport lmao), but the mess etc that was caused by my condition... and how it was treated as a lie or an “excuse” for me to get out of things by my teachers was awful. when in fact, it was a real problem that i had several years of medical appointments with a specialist doctor, an occupational therapist and assistive technology (well in primary school anyway) and loads of tests and shit done for.

so if you’re a teacher or are currently training to be a teacher, if you have a kid like this in your class/es please don’t be this awful towards them, please know they’re trying their best.

#life #about me #shut up ilona #ilona actually shares her life with her followers for once lol #ilona whines about her shitty life to her followers lol #but seriously though #my teachers always wondered why i had low self esteem #and mentally i was always like ‘it’s because you consistently call me a failure?’#like you really expect me to have a healthy level of SE when all you do is call me a failure etc?#like how the fuck is that supposed to fucking work?#this is a tl;dr post for people on this site that hate reading longform posts

21 notes · View notes

incorrectdeceptionquotes · 6 years ago

Text

A History of Secrets Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Jonathan took Farrah down to the FBI archives office. The woman he was looking for was sitting by her desk with her head down, looking at some book. Her red hijab framed her face, she wore long-sleeved yellow top with a long light pink cardigan on top along with a pair of jeans. He hesitated for a moment before knocking on the open door. Lara looked up to find the magician by the door with a stroller in hand. He gave a nervous smile, “Hi.”

The archivist gave a small grin, “Hi. Jonathan, right?”

“Yeah, I’m surprised you could tell.”

Lara shrugged, “You and your brother might look identical but you carry yourselves very differently.” Jonathan’s eyebrows raised slightly in amusement. “Plus your leather jacket is a bit of a giveaway.”

Jonathan looked down to the black leather jacket he was wearing and chuckled slightly, “I guess you’re right.”

“How can I help you?”

“Well... I was wondering if you could help us with something... I don’t know if it’s really your expertise but-”

“I can do what I can. Have a seat.” She gestured to the chair in front of her desk.

Jonathan was about to bring the stroller in when he realized that Lara’s office wasn’t that big. It could definitely fit Farrah’s stroller but it might make things a little snug. He placed the stroller outside the door, lifted up his niece into his arms. He was about to walk back in when Farrah pointed to the stroller and exclaimed, “Bunny!”

“Oh, sorry kiddo. Forgot about your bunny.” He took the bunny out of the stroller and Farrah was quick to wrap her arms around the pale blue plush. Jonathan came in and sat down, placing Farrah on his lap. He hesitated again for a moment before speaking up, “I-I was wondering if you had any information in the Blanc family.”

Lara raised her eyebrows in surprise, “Well, off the top of my head, I know that they’re a rich family. A combination of old money and new money. May I ask why?”

Jonathan nodded, “They’re kind of... our in-laws.”

“In-laws?”

“Our sister was married to Shawn Blanc.”

Lara looked at Jonathan then took a quick glance to Farrah who was still playing on Cameron’s phone. She knew from what Kay told her that Cameron and Jonathan were raising Farrah because she lost her parents. All she could say was: “I’m sorry.”

Jonathan nodded in appreciation. “And now, there’s this.” He took the letter out of his pocket and handed it to her.

He noticed how her expressions changed as she read through the letter. Her nostrils started to flair slightly. When she was done, she almost slammed the paper down, “They want to take her away?” Jonathan nodded, a little confused by her reaction. “Why now?”

“That’s the same question we have.” Jonathan sighed, “I was wondering if you could find anything on them that could prevent them from taking her away... you’d think Bennett Blanc being in prison for actual coldblooded murder wouldn’t have them so confident.” He tried to joke.

Lara gave a tiny smile, “I’ll do what I can. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Jonathan shook his head, “I think that’s all for now.” Just then Farrah lifted the phone to Jonathan’s face to hand to him. He took his brother’s phone from the little girl, “You all done playing?” Farrah didn’t say anything and instead tried to wiggle her way onto the floor. Jonathan gently placed her on the ground and let her walk around a little, “Sorry, she just needs to stretch her legs.”

Lara’s smile only grew as she watched the little girl in denim overalls, white puff-sleeved t-shirt with pink flower clips in her hair waddle around her office with her stuffed animal in hand. “I don’t mind at all. I think she’s very sweet.”

“Thank you.” Jonathan replied with a grin, “I think so too.”

Lara was about to say something when she heard Farrah coo at something behind her. The archivist turned around her chair and found the little girl pointing at the bottom shelf of children’s books. She smiled at Farrah, ��Do you wanna pick a book?” Farrah just shyly looked at her shoes, “It’s okay if you want to try to read one.”

Lara pulled out the book Farrah had been pointing at and handed it to the little girl. Farrah hesitantly took the book and gave Lara a toothy smile before she toddled back over to her uncle and showed him the book. Jonathan pretended to be incredibly amazed by the book as Farrah sat down and placed the book on her lap as she clumsily opened it to page through it. He looked to Lara, “Why do you have children’s books in your office?”

Lara shrugged, “Usually, some of my co-workers who had to come to work last-minute can’t get someone to look after their kids so I let them stay here. It’s kind of the calmest place a kid can be in a building like this.” She chuckled, “Plus I don’t really get that much to do outside of finding files for people.”

Jonathan was surprised, “Really?”

She nodded, “Yeah. Mike sometimes has Diego and Jaime hang out here while he has to finish up paperwork so I figured it made sense to just have a few kid-friendly books you know?” She glanced at Farrah who was tracing her tiny finger over the illustrations of the book. “Do you read to her a lot?”

Jonathan shrugged, “Uh, yeah, I guess. She really likes to be read to.”

“That’s really nice.” Lara gave slight grin as she got up from her chair. She walked over to the second bookshelf to the left, “So you said that you needed dirt on the Blancs?”

Jonathan chuckled, “Not really dirt. Just a reason that can prevent them from taking Farrah away.”

Lara raised an eyebrow in amusement, “So dirt?”

He let out a laugh this time, “You said it, not me.”

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Kay ran a hand through her hair as she looked through traffic camera footage, trying to see if she could identify Cornelia Berossi in the crowd. She had been told by the prison guards that the former mystery woman was now blond as her roots had grown out so that was something to look out for... but she could have already dyed her hair. She took another sip of her coffee, frustrated that somehow the fugitive had evaded all the cameras. It wasn’t until her stomach growled that she finally looked up from her screen. At that same moment, Cameron knocked on her office door. She smiled, “Hey.”

“Hi.” He walked in, closing the door behind him, “Do you wanna get some lunch?”

Kay sighed, “I’d love to but I’m still looking through this footage.”

Cameron walked over to her, “Any leads?”

She shook her head, “Not yet...” She ran her hand through her hair again, “I just don’t understand it. How is she not in any of this footage? There’s only so many ways to leave that prison and they’re all under surveillance.”

Cameron placed a hand on her shoulder, “Maybe you need to step away from it for a little while. Maybe get yourself some food.”

She placed her hand on his, “Cameron-”

“I’m not saying take the whole day off but you do need a break. You’ve been working non-stop for hours and you’ve only had coffee since breakfast.” She gave him a curious look, “You think that after all this time I can’t tell when you’re running on just caffeine?”

She rolled her eyes. She looked up to him, “How’s Farrah?”

“She’s alright. She’s with Johnny right now.”

“Why isn’t she at daycare?” Cameron averted her eyes, “Cameron...”

He sighed, “I know... I’m just worried.” He lightly gripped her hand as he looked back to her, “You should eat something. It might help.”

“You’re right.” She got up from her seat. She picked up her jacket, placing her phone and her wallet in the pockets, “Where to?”

“How about that diner down the street? I hear they have good pie.”

She smirked, “I thought we were getting lunch.”

“Lunch can include dessert.” He playfully argued.

“Do you want to ask the others if they want to join us?”

“They already went for lunch half an hour ago.”

Kay nodded as she put her jacket on, “You didn’t go with them?”

“And leave you to forget to take care of yourself? What kind of man would I be?” She rolled her eyes at him again as they went out the door.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

The day had gone by and they still had no leads on the former mystery woman. Kay decided to stay at her place seeing as she was going to get up early again in the morning.

Cameron and Jonathan went back to their apartment with a tuckered-out Farrah. The two brothers just discussed what they had managed to get done and were trying to figure out if there was something they were just not seeing. Upon arriving home and locking the door behind them, Jonathan let out a yawn. Cameron smirked at his brother, “Tired?”

“Yeah... I guess. I’ll get Farrah ready for bed.” He said in a bit of an exhausted tone.

Cameron shook his head as he took his tired niece out, “You go to bed, I got her.”

“You sure?”

“Take an early night. We’ll be fine.”

Jonathan gave a grateful sigh, “Thanks Cam. I’ll see you in the morning, good night.”

Cameron smiled, “G’night Johnny.”

“Nigh’ nigh’ Johnny” Farrah babbled.

Jonathan chuckled, “Good night Jellybean.”

Jonathan went into his room as Cameron took Farrah into her room. Once he finally got Farrah into her footie pajamas, after a few escape attempts by the toddler. Once he also gave her hair a quick brushing, he scooped up his niece and placed butterfly kisses on her cheeks making her giggle. Farrah grabbed his cheeks with her teeny hands. Cameron smiled as he cooed at her, “Did you know that I love you very much?” Farrah giggled as he took them to the kitchen to get her a bedtime bottle, “Yes I do, I love my little girl.” He placed her on the ground for a moment.

When he got out her bottle out, she started jumping up and down and pointed, “Botta! Botta!”

Cameron smiled at her excitement and held out his hand, letting her grasp his index finger. When they got back to Farrah’s room, Cameron placed her bottle on a table so he could pick her up. “Now. Are you going to go right to sleep after finishing your bottle?”

Farrah grabbed his nose and giggled, “Botta!”

“Aw, come on Fare Bear, I thought you grew out that.” Farrah just giggled again making Cameron smile again as she let go of his nose. He gave her a hug before placing her in her crib. He handed her the bottle, she was quick to grab it and start drinking it. Already, her eyelids began to droop. Cameron tucked her, and handed her the blue bunny she loved so much. As he walked out of her room and turned off the light, he just wished that whatever happened, Farrah would be alright.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

One year ago...

A young doctor with bright brown eyes furrowed his brows as read through some official-looking documents. “Shawn?” He heard a voice call out. A young woman with dark curly hair and blue eyes walked over to him and sat down with an eight-month-old child drinking a bottle.

Shawn smiled, “Hey Fifi.” He held out his hand, letting the little girl in his wife’s arms grasp his finger, “Hey Farrah... how’s my little princess doing?”

Fiona smiled down at her daughter as Farrah grinned at her father, “Well, I got her into her PJs and hopefully the bottle will help get her to sleep.” She looked to the papers on the desk, “Whatcha doing?”

“Oh uh... just... finalizing our will.”

Fiona raised an eyebrow in amusement, “We have a will? When did we get so fancy pants?”

Shawn chuckled, “Lots of people have wills Fiona.”

She just shrugged, “I never have. Never had a reason to.”

He gave a sad smile, “Well, I have two reasons to. One reason is the beautiful woman sitting next to me.” Fiona rolled her eyes as Shawn leaned over to kiss Farrah’s forehead, “And the other reason is my little princess.”

“Shawn, it’s past 8 o’clock. Does the sap tap ever turn off?” Fiona joked.

Shawn playfully rolled his eyes, “Oh ha, ha. This is actually pretty important.”

“How so?” Fiona asked as she took the empty bottle from Farrah and placed it on the desk.

“Well, I just mean that we have a baby and it’s not a bad idea to just have some things ready for her just in case...” Shawn couldn’t bring himself to say it.

Fiona intertwined her hand with her husband, “Shawn... I get that you’re worried about Farrah and it’s really sweet but you gotta remember that we’re going to be just fine.”

“I’m sorry, I guess I just feel better knowing that no matter what might happen, you and Farrah will be okay.” Fiona raised an eyebrow. “I just mean financially.” He showed her one of the papers, “See, this is my inheritance that I had already separated into my own separate account before my parents...”

“Cut you off?”

Shawn shrugged, “I don’t ever plan to use it because I don’t trust how my parents made that money in the first place and I have decent job where I make good honest money.”

“Why does your father keep sending you checks then?”

“I don’t know...” He replied, squeezing his wife’s hand, “But I’m not taking any money from that man. There’s always a catch with him.”

Fiona gave Shawn a sad smile as Farrah held her arms out to him wanting Shawn to take her. “So what does this will do for Farrah?” Fiona asked as Shawn took his baby girl in his arms, letting the baby rest her head on his shoulder.

Shawn handed her the paper, “I’ve turned my inheritance into a savings account for Farrah. That money will be hers.”

Well! Does that clear things up a little? No?

...Don’t worry, it will all make sense soon...ish...

Hope you guys liked this chapter, something big will be happening next chapter so stay tuned for that! <3

#deception #deception fanfiction #jonathan black #kay daniels #cameron black #kaymeron #a bundle of secrets #a history of secrets #renewdeception #savedeception #deception abc

6 notes · View notes

mandygreenfieldromanceandar-blog · 6 years ago

Text

For those moms entering teen-dom... I got you.

I have turned into one of those parents, that when I see any baby related post on social media, I feel the need to comment. “Try Mylicone drops!” Or, “A little dirt never hurt!” And my favorite, “You will miss this one day!”

Now, I never wanted to be one of them, haven been through the phase of unwanted and outdated advice myself. I always thought, that when someone asked for advice, only then would I give it, not blurt it out like it’s girl’s night with too much homemade Sangria. (He said WHAT to you? Oh girl, you don’t need no MAN!)

Now, I don’t want to age myself or anything, but social media wasn’t a huge thing in 2005 when I started my journey fresh with a set of twins. The advice from moms then, wasn’t as in your face as it is now. It was a tad subtler, and you could avoid it generally by skipping Uncle Phil’s 60th birthday celebration. But these poor moms now. Oy. The doors are wide open, and here come the crazies.

Oh, and I’m totally guilty for being one. The ones who have been there before so heartily that they can’t NOT give the un-asked for, often cringe worthy advice (I had TWINS. HAYO!). I get it now. We are just trying to save the young Jedi’s from all our past mistakes. You know, forgetting the Mylicone drops, so they were up with gas all night, and picking them up when they fall and immediately putting them in the bath (they’re just going to get dirty again, right?) We did those things, too, despite that unwanted and outdated advice we got as well.

As much advice as you get as a young mom, and some days it seems your dodging it with Captain America’s shield (if only), that advice undeniably becomes something else as they blossom into teen-dom. What’s the word I’m looking for? Oh.

Non-existent.

Maybe it’s the smell, the disgusting pile of food wrappers under the bed, or the consistent eye rolling, but that advice is generally limited to, “Oh, good luck with that!” Yeah. That doesn’t help me and if we are getting technical here, that’s not advice.

You have no idea how much you miss the crappy advice when it stops coming, and even worse, the wholly vacant guidance for how to deal with the fact that this journey?

This, crying tears over failed pregnancy tests, waking up all hours with a crying baby, holding hands out in the middle of the night to stop the vomit, night terrors, play dates, kiddie rides, first days of school, Batman lunchboxes and homemade Halloween costumes, is well. It’s almost over.

No more Santa, or Easter Bunny or Tooth Fairy. Carving pumpkins is kind of boring, and watching holiday movies with me? Forget it. Its like torture.

ONE piece of advice they did share;

“It goes so fast”.

Not advice, per se, but more of a warning. And they were thoroughly and unfortunately, all too correct. It happened one day when I wasn’t looking. I had my back turned, I was making coffee, I was cleaning the house, paying the bills. I was food shopping, back to school shopping and making doctor appointments. And when I came home one day from keeping with this life, they were huge; no more Nickelodeon, Power Rangers, Hot Wheels. No more juice boxes, footy pajamas and sweet smelling babies. They were replaced by Cartoon Network, sometime R rated movie watching almost adults, who cursed in front of me by accident and burped the alphabet.

Yes. My two almost fourteen-year old’s are entering eight grade this year, and I am a total, unequivocal, pile of mom-of-teen-mess.

It really did happen that fast.

The tired up-all-nights night,s and constant physical exhaustion of running after toddlers is replaced with a new mental exhaustion; a brand of your very own kind of worry that only comes with having a teenager. Worry is now of being bullied, failed important tests, girl/boy friends, proper hygiene practices, homework anxiety, and not to mention peer pressure. Your mind wanders to when you were that age, and you remember the heartbreak, the feelings of defeat, the loneliness, and the sheer and utter feeling that you were completely alone.

Yes. They feel alone, and consequently, so do you, and no one is offering advice on what to do about that.

I looked at my one son the other day while we were at the pool, who is now almost as tall as me. His shoulders are broader, his cheeks thinner, his laugh deeper. He’s filling out, becoming a man now and by next year, I lamented, he will be completely different. Not just another year older, but another year closer at being a grown up, on his own, and away from me.

It’s staggering, the thought; I have a few short years to fit in more trips, hugs (when he lets me), one on one conversations, pool days, and Christmas mornings. A very few, fast short years.

And when that realization happens, it hits a mom in the face. Hard. So hard, your vision is blurring, your head hurts, and you need to lie down.

No one tells you how to handle them actually becoming grown-ups. They only tell you how to handle the things it takes to get through childhood. Things like, croup, tonsillitis and potty training. They don’t open their guts and tell you that this is golden. All of it. All of the years.

Whatever you’re doing?

It’s fine. You are fine. Stop worrying about those little teeny things, and enjoy the big things. You are much smarter than you realize, and much more capable than you think.

Don’t be afraid to ask for the advice the day they leave grammar school, or how to tell your son that it’s not your fault she doesn’t like you; that your real friends don’t care what you wear and that your time in middle school is short, and even though it’s awkward, it’s supposed to be. It inevitably becomes a learning experience you carry with you to adult hood.

Tell the mom with kids on the edge of reason, that reason will come soon enough; that you will survive their awkward years with them, and you may have more sleepless nights, even if they pale in comparison to the baby years. Buy her a spa gift card now that she has time to use it. Take her to the movies and convince her that she may question her sanity right now, but it will all be okay in the end.

And lastly, while it feels like it’s ending, it’s not. You still have time.

Time to:

Hug them when they don’t want you to.

Talk to them, even though they would rather to talk to anyone else.

Help them with Algebra, even if you must do it with them step, by painful step.

Swim with them.

Get interested in their music, even if it makes you want to poke your ears out with sharp pencils (Do we need to bring up Vanilla Ice?)

Listen to what they are saying to others.

Keep them respectful.

Get them in nature.

Play board games.

Eat dinner with them.

Be their mom. Not their friend. They may hate you for that now, but you will hate yourself later for giving in when you should have said no.

And finally, don’t beat yourself up. Every stage is hard. There is no magical age. Kids are kids. It’s all hard and you, mama, are doing a great friggin’ job.

I may not be getting advice in this stage, but I have decided to make my own. I will NOT be the mom that just says, “Good luck with that!”

Okay, I may, but directly after that, I will tell them they are not alone, that I am here, and hey, I have some advice….

1 note · View note

sleepyverstappens · 8 years ago

Text

Dancing Through Life (Chapter 1/?)

Title: Dancing Through Life

Pairing: Aaron Dingle/Robert Sugden

Rating: M (for later chapters)

Warnings (For this chapter): Canonical Character Death, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Non-Graphic Violence

Summary: Two boys, stuck in a small village in the Yorkshire Dales, until they found their unlikely way out, through ballet and each other.

(Read on AO3)

A/N: Well here it is, the first chapter of my robron ballet!AU, if you follow me on here you know I've been going on about this fic for ages. I was planning on only posting it once I had finished it completely, but I couldn't help myself. So here is the first chapter and I'm hoping to update this fic once a week (the first 5 chapters are finished, so we’ll see how the rest goes). I’ve tried to keep canon as a base, but I have played around with their ages a bit in relation to when things happened in canon throughout the fic (it’ll be pretty clear dw).

Chapter 1: Robert

Ballet

[ba-ley, bal-ey]

Noun

· a classical dance form demanding grace and precision and employing formalized steps and gestures set in intricate, flowing patterns to create expression through movement.

---

Robert had been only eleven when he left his home in Emmerdale to go to the Royal Ballet School in London. A farmer’s son doing ballet, Jack hadn’t wanted any part of it. But Sarah had seen the joy her son had found in it. Little Robert had always been dancing around in the fields behind their farm, making up his own silly dances.

“Robert stop fooling around and go help your brother feed the sheep,” Jack’s gruff voice called out to his son.

“But daddd!”

“Robert! No arguing just do as you are asked boy.”

Jack had scoffed at her when she had brought up putting him in ballet classes. Why would he put his hard earned money into his son’s dance classes? No if he was going to pay for a hobby for Robert it’d just have to be footie like any other lad. But when Jack had taken him to his first practice on a cold Saturday morning Robert had refused to join in with the other young boys bustling about on the football field. Robert would instead be dancing around in the field totally missing the ball that was passed off to him. When one day one of those passes had hit his head hard, leaving Robert a crying mess, Sarah had decided that it had been enough. After the football debacle Sarah had brought up dance classes again and in the end Jack had given in, figuring that if Robert actually took classes he would soon get bored of it. But he never had, he just got home from each new class more excited than the last one.

“Mum! Mum! Guess what, we learned to do pirouettes today. Look mum, you have to find a spot on the wall,” Robert said pointing to the kitchen wall. “And then, and then you turn, but you need to keep looking at that spot until you can’t, and then you twist you head around real quick to find that spot again,” Robert explained excitedly as he clumsily showed his mum how to do it.

And then Robert’s ballet teacher, Mrs Walker, had brought up the fact that there would be auditions for the Royal Ballet School in Manchester soon. Sarah had been delighted to hear that Mrs. Walker thought that Robert had a chance. For the next few weeks Robert had worked hard on his audition, finding the perfect music to accompany his dance.

Then on the 18th of January, Robert still remembered the date clearly, his mum had driven him to Manchester for his audition. Robert had been so nervous that day, seeing all the other boys and girls around him who seemed far more capable than him. But he had danced with everything he had, hoping that it would be enough. And it had been, because he had been invited to the auditions in London. Robert and Sarah had made the long drive up to London from Emmerdale the next month. Robert had thought he had been nervous for the auditions in Manchester, but that day, surrounded by boys and girls from all over the country he had been so nervous he had felt on the verge of throwing up all day.

“You read it, I’m too nervous to read it,” Robert said to Sarah, it felt like his heart was trying to beat out of his chest it was beating so fast.

Sarah picked up the envelope from where Robert had dropped it on the table. The black Royal Ballet School logo staring back at her, before she turned the envelope over and opened it. She carefully read over the letter, trying not to skip to the end so as not to miss anything important. But seeing the big congratulations at the start of the first sentence had already put a big smile on her face.

“So?”

“Oh Robert darling, you got in! You got accepted to the Royal Ballet School, you’re going to London,” Sarah declared smiling brightly.

“Really?!” Robert squealed jumping up from his chair to give his mum a big hug.

The wait for September to come around had been long, but Robert had enjoyed his summer holiday in Emmerdale. He had continued his ballet classes with Mrs. Walker, though she had told him that he would probably get taught everything again at the Royal Ballet School and come to find that he had learned all the wrong techniques. He had assured her that she had taught him very well, but had later on come to realise that yes she had been telling the truth. In his last few weeks in Emmerdale he had played around with his little sister Victoria at any given chance. He knew he would miss her a lot, even when she was being an annoying little brat. He had also spent a lot of time helping his dad on the farm with Andy. While even at his young age farming had never really interested him much he enjoyed spending time with his dad and brother.

And then the first of September 1997 had come and Robert had said his goodbyes to his family.

Robert was stuffing the last of his possessions into his already overfull suitcase. Today his mum would drive him up to London, the city that would become his new home.

“Bye Viccy,” he said as he kissed Victoria’s chubby cheeks.

He looked up at Andy, his brother whom he had despised a lot of times. But they had managed to get along during the summer and they loved each other in their own way.

“Bye Andy, have fun with the animals. Make sure Betsy gets plenty of fresh hay.”

Betsy was one of the sheep Robert had come to love over the summer. She was a silly little thing, often running and jumping around in the fields, while the other sheep just grazed. In a way very similar to Robert, the boy that loved to dance around in the farm fields.

The drive up to London had been long and Robert had fallen asleep by the time they had passed Sheffield, because he hadn’t gotten much sleep that night due to his nerves. As they had entered London his mum had woken him up so he could take in the city that would become his new home. Everything had been so much bigger than what he was used to back in the village. He remembered it from his audition in London, but now that he knew that this would become his new home for at least the next 5 years it had felt different.

Settling in at White Lodge had taken him some time. At just eleven years old he had been on his own for the first time in his life. No family close by and all these new people around him, but the routine of waking up early, eating breakfast in the dining hall and then going to school, had quickly become his new normal. He had made some friends early on and had had the time of his life. He got to do what he loved most, dance. Sure the hours of training were hard work, but he had still regularly wished he could be dancing instead of getting bored out of his mind in another maths class.

And so most of his days were spent perfecting his pliés in the first three ballet positions, learning the right ways to move each muscle. Building up the strength and stamina for performances and working at the barre to learn to do basic movements such as tendu, grand battement and relevé.

He had loved his time at the Royal Ballet School, but also looked forward to his winter and summer holidays that he got to spent at home. Being back in Emmerdale had always been an adjustment. It would always take him a few days before his body clock remembered that he didn’t have to wake up at 7 am during the holidays.

Robert groaned as he looked at the time on the clock on his bedside table; 7 am. It was his first day back in Emmerdale for the summer holidays, but his body clearly hadn’t adjusted to the holiday schedule yet.

Deciding to make the most of his first day back home he stretched out his body and got out of bed. He shuffled down the stairs and walked into the kitchen, where his dad was sat sipping his morning coffee.

“You’re up early,” Jack stated as he looked up from his paper.

“Body is still on school schedule,” Robert shrugged.

“Well, want to help me milk the cows?”

“I guess.”

“You’re back on the farm now lad, not at your fancy ballet school, you need to put in the work just like the rest of ‘em,” Jack said.

Robert might have been going to school at the Royal Ballet School now, but Jack still hadn’t really liked the idea of his son going there. Sarah had told him how impressive it was that their son had gotten accepted into such an elite school, but Jack had still thought of ballet as a thing for girls. So Robert had spent most of his time back home helping out on the farm. His mum had tried to make sure he had enough time to continue practicing, but his dad had kept him busy. And after his dad had gotten angry at him after catching him practicing his ballet moves instead of mucking out the stables, he had resorted to stretching and practicing as soon as he woke up and before going to bed.

This whole spiel went on during each holiday he spent at home over the next few years. Robert hadn’t been able to understand why his dad couldn’t just support him. Surely by now he had to have realised that Robert wasn’t giving up on his dream to become a professional ballet dancer, but each school holiday his dad had pretty much forbidden him from doing ballet. Robert had hated his dad for it and after the first two years he had come to dread going back home for the holidays, no matter how much he missed his mother and little sister Victoria, the fact that he wasn’t allowed to dance left his heart feeling hollow every time.

---

Then that dreadful day had come. November 16th, 2000. He had been working on his turn out in the arabesque with Mrs. Robinson when headmaster Connelly had walked in.

“Mrs. Robinson, can I talk to Mr. Sugden for a minute,” Mr. Connelly said as he walked through the open classroom door.

“Of course,” Mrs. Robinson said with a bright but unsure smile. “Go ahead Robert, we will work on your turn out again later.”

There was a strained silence as Robert followed the headmaster to his office, he didn’t like the look on the man’s face. He couldn’t think of anything he had done wrong. He had been to all of his classes on time and kept to himself during the weeks. It couldn’t have been about him kissing that girl Krysta over the weekend could it? How would Mr. Connelly even know, the girl didn’t even go to the Royal Ballet School, she just happened to be at the same place they had taken a weekend trip to.

“Please, take a seat Mr. Sugden,” Mr. Connelly said nodding to the ornate chairs that sat across from his burgundy desk.

Robert sat down, wondering if he should say something, but he decided to keep quiet. He figured if he didn’t say anything he couldn’t incriminate himself if he had done something wrong.

“You’re probably wondering why I came to get you,” the headmaster paused. “Robert, I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

Panic was rising in his chest at the man’s careful words. He was gonna get kicked out of school wasn’t he. He was gonna lose what had become his whole life over the last 3 years. The sound of the rush of blood going through his head almost made him miss what the headmaster said next.

Words that would forever be edged into his brain: “I’m sorry Robert, but I just received a call from your father informing me that sadly your mother has passed away.”

Those last two words echoed in his head.

“Passed away.”

“PASSED AWAY.”

All of a sudden he felt hands on his shoulders. “Breathe Robert, breathe. Follow my breathing okay,” he heard Mr. Connelly’s voice say from what seemed very far away. He blinked harshly, trying to get his eyes focused, trying to do what the man told him to do, breathe.

Slowly he got his breathing back under control, the rush of blood in his head fading away as the overwhelming heat he felt surrounding him turned to bitter cold.

The news about his mum had left him reeling. Mr. Connelly had told him what his father had told him over the phone. His mother had been caught in a barn fire he had explained. The headmaster had asked his assistant to get his gear from the ballet studio and had lead him to his bedroom.

Robert hadn’t cried until the next day when his dad had come to pick him up. His dad had never come with him to London, it had always been him and his mum. And his dad actually being at the White Lodge building was a stark reminder that this was all real, that his mum was really dead and this wasn’t just a dream.

---

After the news about his mom everything had just seemed to get worse and worse.

His mum’s funeral had been a sombre affair, nothing like Robert had expected. Of course he knew funerals weren’t generally a fun affair, but none of his mother’s joy in life seemed to have been translated into the wake. He had only recognised a handful of people there, hadn’t recognised the man that spoken about his mum as if she had been the most important person in his life. She wasn’t, she was the most important person in his life. But he had sat there and accepted the condolences from the tearful people. He had mostly just felt empty, having cried out all of his tears during the days before the funeral. He thought back to the last time he had seen her; the day she had dropped him off at White Lodge after the summer holiday all those weeks ago. The last time he had spoken to her on the phone; two days before she had died. He was just glad that their last conversation had been a nice one and not a fight, he couldn’t bear to think about the last shared memories between them being bad ones.

Now that the funeral was over he was back home on the farm. Since it was quite close to the winter break they had decided that staying at home until the next year was easier. And ‘it would give him some time to grieve before diving back into the rigorous schedule of the ballet school,’ his teachers had said.

Robert hadn’t wanted to grieve though, he had just wanted to dance and forget everything that had happened. He hadn’t wanted to be on the farm, the farm that had only been a safe haven because his mum had been there. But now he had been back there and she hadn’t been. And he hadn’t even been able to dance his feelings away, because his dad had still forbidden him from it. Worse he had tried to stop him from going back to the Royal Ballet School.

“You’re not going back to that school!” his dad yelled.

“What?”

“You heard me, you’re not going back to that stupid school Robert. I’ve indulged this silly fantasy long enough now, it’s time you learn to do some real graft.”

“No! You can’t stop me from going back! I’m getting better and better, I even won a competition last month!”

“I don’t care how good you think you are or how many trophies you win, you’re not going back, end off.”

“Please dad, I love it okay, I love it so much,” he paused and thought about his next words, maybe they would make his dad understand. “Please don’t take away my last connection to mum, please dad.”

His dad sighed, the fight gone from him at the mention of Sarah. A range of emotions crossed his father’s face; lingering anger, confusion, defeat and some softness.

“Okay, okay I won’t stop you from going back there, but while you are here you are expected to help out. No more skiving off work to practise, while you’re here you’re a farmer not a ballet dancer.”

“Okay,” Robert agreed reluctantly.

After his dad had agreed to let him continue at the ballet school he had been helping out every day. He missed dancing a lot, he missed the feeling of freedom it gave him, he even missed the way his muscles ached after a rigorous training. But more so he missed his mum, his mother who had always encouraged him in his passion for dancing, who had always smiled at him so brightly when he came back each holiday full of enthusiastic stories.

---

The day Michael came to work on their farm Robert had been reluctantly helping feed the animals with his dad and Andy. The brunette boy with the bright smile and broad shoulders had immediately caught his attention.

Robert looked up as he heard someone approach the barn. A boy, who looked to be maybe one or two years older than him walked up to where they were feeding the sheep. The boy was already clad in the unflattering green overalls they wore on the farm, but Robert couldn’t help but notice how pretty he was. The boy pushed away a lock of brown hair that had fallen over his forehead as he began to talk.

“Morning Jack. What’ve we got planned for today,” he said with a bright smile, showing of the dimples in his cheeks.

“Morning Michael. We’re just finishing up feeding the cattle, maybe you can help clearing out the stalls.”

“Starting us off with the worst of it, aye,” Michael grinned, clearly not bothered about the work he had been put on.

“Farming isn’t just shearing sheep and milking cows, gotta take care of all of it,” Jack shrugged.

“I can help!” Robert chimed in, already taken by this new boy. His dad looked at him funny, he’d never in his life helped clear out the stalls. But before Jack could say anything about it, Michael had already replied with a ‘Great, come on then’.

Robert followed Michael along to the stalls, dreading the work he now had to go and do, but feeling it was worth it to spend more time with Michael.

“I’m Robert, by the way,” he smiled at Michael as he took the spade that was handed to him.

Over the winter break Robert had come to look forward to the moment Michael showed up at the farm each morning. Spending time with the boy meant he could forget about his mum for a few hours. For the first time since that dreadful day he had been able to smile again; laugh even, when Michael would tease him about his lack of farming skills.

Michael had listened to him go on and on about ballet and his school. About the teachers he liked and the ones he despised. About the friends he had made and the snooty girls and boys he loathed. He had encouraged him to show off his skills, had been impressed by them. Michael had even let him teach him some of the moves. The boy had looked silly in his overalls in the middle of a barn full of cow muck, but it had put the biggest smile on Robert’s fourteen year old face.

Then one afternoon as the winter break was almost over, the second if not worst day of his life had happened. After a long day on the farm Robert and Michael were sat in the kitchen drinking some hot chocolate, to warm up from a day out in the cold.

“No really! I got a trophy and everything!” Robert exclaimed as he told Michael about the ballet competition he had won this year. “Come on, lemme show you,” he said, grabbing Michael’s hand as he dragged him up to his room.

It had all happened so fast, one minute he had felt his heart soar as his lips had touched Michael’s, relieve settling over him as Michael responded; he hadn’t been rejected. And then the next minute Jack had barged in. From one moment to the next he was shoved off of his bed, Michael was dragged from his room with a shout not to come back ever again. The edges of the old radiator had dug into his back as he saw Jack turn back around on him. The anger in his face had made him brace for impact, but he hadn’t been able stop it from happening.

He had ran from his room, had ran through the fields of the farm as fast as he could with his bruised body. He had kicked the wooden fencing at the far edge of their farmlands, had sunk down into the frosty grass and sobbed his heart out.

That night when he had walked into the kitchen for dinner his suitcase had sat on the table packed and ready.

He walked into the kitchen, hands and face still feeling frozen from sitting outside in the field for what felt like hours. But the sting from his hands soon turned into a different kind of sting; a harsh sting in his heart as he saw the suitcase planted on the kitchen table.

“What’s that for?” He asked confused, he still had 4 days left at home.

“I want you out of my house in the morning. If you want to keep fooling around at that stupid ballet school of yours, you have no place at this house anymore, no place in this family,” Jack said harshly.

“What? You’re kicking me out because I do ballet?!” Robert asked incredulous. “Andy killed mum and he can stay, but you’re kicking me out because I do ballet?”

“You know damn well why I want you gone Robert.”

His father’s words had felt like a slap in the face, had felt worse than the fresh bruises covering his body. His father had kicked him out; had pretty much disowned him, because he had kissed Michael, because he had kissed a boy.

#robron #robron fic #emmerdale fic #the ballet au #chapter 1 #my fic #aaron dingle #robert sugden #ahhh I'm so scared to post this!

8 notes · View notes

yeskhanzadame11 · 5 years ago

Text

Natural Weight Loss and Fat Burning Advice to Change Your Life

Obesity is now a worldwide epidemic. USA is the most obese Country in the world, and my country, Australia, is quickly catching up with the states. Also, of even more concern is the growing number of obese children who are thinking that fast food is a normal way to eat.

I see it every day, and I used to see it in the mirror in the past, the fat rolls, the chubby fat skin, the fat faces, the big asses. Yes its not very nice, but if you are a realist like me, you will notice that most people you see are fat and over weight. Whilst it is there own choice and if they are happy I have no qualms with them being like that. However, obesity is not just visual thing. Obesity is killing the world with heart disease, diabetes and other illnesses stemming from having too much fat in your system.

Let me set one thing straight first. I don't like really skinny girls. I really appall the cat walk shows and the stuff they say to young girls how they are fat and look too chubby etc. etc. These people are extremists and I am not a fan of the fashion industry and what it does to young impressionable people all over the world. Recently there was a comment made on one of those "how to be a super model" shows here in Australia, they judge said something to the effect that the girl should look at herself in the mirror as she is clearly too fat. And the girl didn't even look overweight to me, I know they have to be anemic in the model industry, but this stuff makes me sick. Anyway, I'm getting away from what I was saying. I'm just stating that when I refer to 'overweight', 'obese', 'fat' people, I am referring to people that if they saw a Doctor, the Doctor would tell them that they should consider changing their diet as its harming their health. So please once again, realise that I am not advocating that everyone should be skinny and not eat anything!

A bit about myself, I am a middle aged guy, 36 years old. Large boned, I have found that I have always struggled with my weight and body image. I love the food like most people, and I am a vegetarian as well, did I say I love beer also? :-(.

After I hit 30 or so my body changed almost over night, and I noticed that weight was harder to keep off and went on quicker without much help! I guess when you eat badly over a period of time, it just adds up and before you know it a year or 2 or more and you will be obese if you don't watch yourself or unless you have one of those magical metabolisms that let you eat whatever you want. Unfortunately I have a slow metabolism, and I need to exercise a fair bit to lose the weight.

The year 2008 arrived and I woke up one morning and looked at the mirror and said to myself, I am not happy with the way I look and I am not happy about getting out of puff when I kick the footy with my son or run around with him. I made a conscious decision to change myself weight loss plans for girls . This is the key to making change in any part of your life, you have to take the first vital step, which is telling yourself you want to change, you will change and you are damn well going to change.

So anyway, I decided to join the gym as I have lifted some weights in earlier years and enjoyed it, I am big boned and I tend to gain muscle relatively easy so that's a good thing, always have to take the positives that you have been given. Over the years I have been on lots of different diets, but never stuck with t hem in the long term. I don't like the term diet and I don't like the mental damage it does to one that wants to lose weight. Diet conjures up all sorts of images of starving yourself on weird and ridiculous food combinations, it makes you think that you are going to put yourself through some sort of food boot camp and you can no longer eat the foods you enjoy eating.

Know what you eat

So I don't use the term diet, I use the term "healthy eating". Its about changing your diet thoughts and changing what you eat and the foods you eat. The harsh reality is if you are obese then you can no longer eat the same foods and live a sedentary life as this will not change your body at all.

The first thing you should do is become knowledgeable on the foods you eat and understand what good foods are and bad foods. Bad foods are foods that are high in saturated fats and sugars, and will do your body not much good at all. Foods that fall into this category are deep fried foods, candy, full fat ice cream, donuts, fast food burgers and fries, full sugar soda drinks, chocolate bars, you get the idea ok. Start to read the labels for the amount of fat in foods, you should aim at lower fat foods when you shop.

Weight loss and diet & exercise is a topic that I could sit here all week and discuss but instead I will be adding new articles when I have the time so you can come back and read the different weight loss and exercise articles when you have the time as well, theres only so many hours in the day and its hard to get everything done.

The good foods that you should be eating are fresh fruit and vegetables, lean meats, low fat dairy and whole grain carbohydrates.

That means fish, lean meats, wholegrain rice, pasta and breads. Low fat cheese, yogurt, & milk. Fresh fruit each and every day.

Organic foods are always better for you than standard foods, it means there are no nasty chemicals in the foods and if you can afford it I really encourage you to buy organic products, have a look next time you go to the supermarket.

Eat plenty of fruit each day, say 3 to 6 pieces of fruit each day. I know its a pain, but your body, your digestive system and your bowels will thank you for it. Have an apple, orange, a cup of tinned fruit salad (in natural juice), a banana, you get the idea.

Have snacks during the day. Its been proven that this increases your metabolism to burn calories faster. Have a morning snack of say an apple and some low fat crackers, a cup of low fat yogurt. In the afternoon have some low fat dip with some low fat wholegrain biscuits.

Fat Loss

Try to really cut down on your fat intake. Try only having a very small amount of butter on bread/toast, try some lower fat butter spreads. Use olive oil in your cooking and minimise this as well. Get a low fat grill like a George foreman one or whatever, this helps you cook low fat without even trying! Non stick cooking pans are great as you can put your food on there with some spray oil and it wont burn, try a lower heat with these pans though as they don't like high heat it damages the surface.

I know desserts are wonderful but try to limit these and try to choose low fat alternatives, check out the supermarket and look for low fat desserts, they are everywhere.

Exercise is a crucial part of your life changing weight loss plan. Start today and go for a brisk walk, it doesn't matter how far it is, just do it, get the walking shoes out and do it, its important to get the ball rolling ok.

Then walk each day, or at least 3 days a week. Make it fast enough so you get a bit out of puff, very slow walking is not beneficial to weight loss. 45 minutes is your goal to aim for at least 3 times a week, then increase if you really want to see results.

Join the gym or buy some cheap weights from a garage sale! Lifting weights is incredibly good for your body, doing the likes of "squats", "bench presses", "rows" will aid you in your weight loss journey. It doesn't matter what your age or sex, weights are a remarkable exercise for strengthening your whole body, working your muscles, increasing your metabolism so you can lose fat faster and burn calories quicker and quicker. Don't kill yourself though, start slow with a short weight lifting program and then as you gain confidence you can add extra exercises later. You can do all your exercise at the gym using the cross trainers and treadmills etc. I cant stress how important plain old walking is, so if you can add regular walking to your life your body will be so much better for it.

Don't stress if you don't have the funds for the gym (they are expensive) as you can do exercises at home, weights are cheap, lots of people buy them and don't use them so they are always for sale! There's a stack of exercises you can do that require no equipment. Crunches, situps, push ups, reverse crunches, ab workouts etc. can all be done with no equipment at all.

The best time to exercise is first thing in the morning, this is when you burn the most calories. This is excellent as you can get it out of the way at the same time and not have to worry about doing it for the rest of the day. The gyms are busy that time of the day though so maybe the morning walk is better option for you.

Take it easy at the start

One of the most important things to remember at the beginning of your weight loss journey is not to go into it too hard core. You will burn yourself out really fast and not want to do it ever again. Start regular walking, regular exercises. Change the way you eat, and what you eat. Start to eliminate fries and bad foods from your diet. If its too drastic at the start, then start reducing these foods each week and you will still notice weight loss as long as you are exercising and reducing your food intake. Keep a journal and write down when you start your weight loss regime, write down what you eat, what exercise you do and put down everything you eat, this is very important.

for more info weight loss plans for girls visit our site.

0 notes

getseriouser · 7 years ago

Text

20 THOUGHTS: Super Saturday

RATHER important Saturday coming up. Going to be on for young and old in Mayo, Longman, and at Yarra Park as well

It’s going to be as big in the Adelaide Hills between Xenophon’s mob and the daughter of the country’s longest running Foreign Minister as it will be between two suburban tribes at the MCG, the reigning premier against one of the very finite group of contenders.

My tip? I reckon Sharkie gets her seat back.

1. Yep, the Giants are coming. The Cats dropping games to the likes of the Bulldogs, the Power losing to Freo, Hawthorn losing to Brisbane, all these have given the Giants a fast path up the ladder to ominously now be in the race for the top four where a month ago just making the eight seemed a challenge. They sit half a game off fourth, which is held by the Swans, a team they are definitely better than and they’ll have the chance to frank that when they host the next local derby in a few weeks’ time. The Demons in the last round looks the only real chance for a slip up for the Giants on the way in, so their form into September will be as cherry ripe as any. Big threats.

2. The midfield quintet of Shiel, Ward, Whitfield, Kelly and Conglio is the best group of five mids in the comp by a street. Remember, this is a team that late in the third term on Preliminary Final day last year was only two kicks off the eventual premier, and had lost Dylan Shiel early in the game to concussion. With Jeremy Cameron back in a week, if they keep this all going as planned, the Tigers wouldn’t be as thrilled to dance to a deep September tune with the orange tsunami again this time round.

3. Mind you, we’ve been lucky so far given the danger we were warned of years ago, that the Giants or Suns for that matter haven’t saluted on Grand Final day for the scenes post-match would be just weird. No noise from the crowd, no romantic story to fuel emotion, a lap of honour with the cup to a largely empty stadium; yeah let’s avoid that if we can for a little while yet please?

4. Melbourne. Round 23 last year, then a number of occasions this year, they are a good footy side without the results to back it up. But geez, they are stiff, if nothing but the Geelong losses in themselves – the Dees would be top four with a bullet, the Cats would be on the slide despite their favourite sun returning. Sliding doors much?

5. Still on the Cats – lucky they are in the eight really. Yes, let’s acknowledge the missed opportunity against the Dogs after the siren, but it’s not clinical for Geelong in 2018. Saturday night Gaz had 31 but Selwood was squeezed out a little, well held, but it seems he is having less influence on matches because of the presence of Ablett. And for mine, if we isolate duos only, Selwood and Dangerfield in the middle looks better than Ablett and Dangerfield, despite the two-time Brownlow medallist’s last term helping get that win no doubt.

6. Big tick to Travis Boak this week, wearing his old number 10 and not 1 as per the tradition for the captain at Port Adelaide. Why? Boak gave the honour of wearing the 1 at Alberton to cancer sufferer Henry Mickan, who was the nominal captain on the day. Great gesture, well done Boak and the Power, just grouse.

7. Rising Star watch, yep, Stephenson kicked three for the Pies whilst Ronke didn’t trouble the goalscorers. But Alex Witherden in the narrow loss to the Crows, 31 touches and 12 marks. This form continues and he’ll pip them at the post for mine.

8. The Swans have lost their midfield. Yes Kennedy had 33 but looks sore, Parker had 29 and kicked two, nice, but after that, what? Jake Lloyd has been industrious all year in the middle but after that it’s mega thin. Heeney has been brilliant but quiet of late, you can’t ask too much off Florent, it’s all looking a bit dire at Sydney.

9. Their run home too is awful. Of the five games left, right now, you’d have them favourites in maybe two of them, and even those odds would be anything but short. They’ll still win their fair share and all will not be completely lost, but they could so easily lose more than they win and their grasp on a top eight spot could go just like that.

10. If there’s smoke, there’s fire – mega legend of Australian netball, Sharni Layton, retired from the sport this week, only turned 30 this year, looks destined now for a stint in AFLW. She did play football as a junior, that’s the key, it wouldn’t just be about publicity Usain Bolt Central Coast Mariners-style, but the girl has got the skills and would probably be stellar. Keen to see her have a go if she so wishes.

11. Quick one on rule changes, I don’t want to be a broken record on this but bloody hell the footy has been good since the bye rounds, leave it alone would you please? Remember when flooding was ruining the game 15 odd years ago, we didn’t legislate the game to eradicate that and who even mentions the word these days? Seriously before the boys got stuck down the cave in Thailand, I hadn’t heard flooding mentioned since watching a Terry Wallace-coached Bulldogs all those years ago.

12. Unconvinced on where the Pies stack up compared to not just their rivals but also their ladder position but to defeat a decent side in North by 66 points is one thing, to have the ball more (+29) but then win tackles 83-47, bloody hell that’s some discrepancy. As impressive a stat for the Maggies as alarming for the Roos.

13. Ben Cunnington, who is just a truck, and Jed Anderson had 12 tackles between them, so that’s 35 tackles made by 20 of their teammates. Five of those 20 didn’t register one all day. Whereas the Pies had nine players register five or more.

14. Port Adelaide had a busy offseason, brought in Rockliff as a free agent, traded for Watts and Motlop, got Thomas and Trengove in as mature-aged recruits for the rookie list. Specifically the first three to be fair, as they are senior-listed players, have they made any real difference? Aside from Motlop’s winning goal in a Showdown, I’d say non grata.

15. Meanwhile, Essendon, further down the ladder, but all three big recruits are wins for mine. Saad looks great down back, Smith’s amongst their most important mids already, and Stringer will look even better next year, win them a few games off his own boot like he did for the Dogs a few years ago down forward. Just the bad losses holding the Dons’ progress back, lots to like about them but you can’t forget they’ve handed Carlton their only win for the year.

16. Also, Orazio Fantasia is close to the best small forward in the comp – he plays a full year next year he kicks 50 plus easy.

17. Ryan Schoenmakers. He may be judged really stringently by the Hawks match committee but gee he looks a rock solid CHF for 2018. 14 touches, 8 marks, two goals on the weekend, 27 years old, a great mark, a reliable set shot, those sorts of big blokes are worth their weight in gold. He’ll probably stay loyal at year’s end if the Hawks don’t secure Tom Lynch but for those other clubs who might be in the race for Lynch and miss or just could use a new target up forward one could do a lot worse.

18. Hawks play the Cats in Round 21 and that’s probably an early elimination final. Loser will be relying on results and maths whereas the victor is probably safe bar a shocking loss in the final fortnight. Always a big game between those two, this will be another chapter in that story.

19. As for big games, how we have 1st v 3rd on Saturday afternoon at the MCG not on free to air is awful. Did we notice that Channel Seven, who always had four games a round dropped down to three when there’s no Thursday night or special game to cover? I know we can’t move the game at last minute to prime time, but we are getting the Dogs-Power balltearer from Ballarat Sunday on Seven. Can’t we send that game to Fox Footy and get Seven to take the Tigers-Pies instead the day prior, surely that’s a better result?

20. And finally this week, Francis Leach. Why? Well its to do with the fact four or five blokes got in a decent shove on the Kardina Park terraces Saturday night. Not good, it is a problem with scuffles in the crowd, not dire but not great, so I’m glad its being picked up and hopefully addressed.

But Francis, heads on to the ABC Sunday morning and cynically said “that’d be a page one, two and three of the Herald Sun for the next three days (if it happened in the A-League), that’s not going to be on the front page the next three days”.

Firstly, the Herald Sun did make it front page the next day, it’s still in the press as of today, and we had fan segregation columns and everything. Sure, not three front pages, it wasn’t Thai boys getting stuck down a cave lets be frank. And yes, the Murdoch press has been unkind to the round ball code over the journey no doubt, but who has the tabloid industry missed, often unfairly, over the journey? Ask any African living in Melbourne at the moment, Francis?

But then too stop worrying about appropriate media coverage when the sport you’re needlessly comparing too, soccer, is pushing an Olympic sprinter as the saviour for the upcoming domestic season, not because he is a genuine onfield talent but because he is a novelty who might put bums on seats that otherwise are attracting cobwebs. That sounds like the exact recipe for a circus. If Kevin Muscat wears a red wig and face paint on the sidelines this season I call Bingo, Gin and Yahtzee.

The narcissistic, precious soccer society needs to stop worrying about Usain Bolt, stop demanding a Royal Commission for the lack of playing time Tim Cahill got in Russia, and stop critiquing whether an incident in a completely different code has been adequately covered by the media and start worrying about getting the world’s most loved sport working in this country again, because right now the way it’s going an unfair and undesirable bit of publicity again on a Tracy Grimshaw program would actually be a good result.

Francis. Take the lemon out of your gob and try and smile. To deflect the real issue onto sorrow into soccer looks as good as your haircut.

(originally published 24 July)

0 notes

wherespaulo · 9 years ago

Text

Footy in France

June 18 - 26, 2016

It had been two years since Brazil (June 2014) and England's disastrous performance in the World Cup – then I'd traveled down to Rio from New York where I'd met a load of US mates from the Race2Adventure crew, and my eldest son, Luke, who'd flown in from London, and we'd stayed 8 days on Epenama Beach. Then it had all ended before it even began – by the time we'd flown to Belo for England's 3rd group stage game against Costa Rica, they were already out of the tournament due to losing their first two games again Uruguay and Italy. And just to rub salt into the wound, that game turned out to be one of the most uninspiring of 0-0 draws I'd ever had the displeasure to experience. So, other than attending three non-England games in Rio (Maracana stadium), and that one England game in Belo, I'd ended up supporting my second team, USA, with my US mates – US v Germany on a giant screen at the Fanfest on Copacabana Beach, and US v Portugal on tv's in a riotous Epenama bar. This all reinforced my view that in recent years the US had always performed way above expectations by giving 110%, while the England 'rock stars', after qualifying relatively easily, had always performed way below expectations due to a loss of 'bottle' on the big stage.

Well, here I was at another footy tournament, the Euros in France this time (June 2016), and hoped for a better England performance. Both the World Cup (yes, believe it or not, unlike the World Series, this really is the 'whole world') and the Euros (just European international teams) tournaments occur every 4 years, but are staggered. I'd traveled to Paris on the Eurostar from London, with Luke again – I should say here, although anyone with at least 2 kids knows this, that my 2 sons are like 'chalk and cheese'. It's as though one son has picked up some of my interests, and the other has picked up the others – but never the twain shall meet. Except for skiing – like a venn diagram, that's the only time the three circles overlap.

We checked into the perfectly located Radisson Blu, Paris-Boulogne, just west of the center, and close to PSG's stadium, the Parc Des Princes, and the Porte de Saint-Cloud metro station, for 8 nights. I'd had to book the hotel 15 months in advance, since hotels were already selling out fast even then, and looked forward to attending two games at the Parc Des Princes (N. Ireland v Germany plus a last 16 game that England would be playing in if they managed to win their group), one game at the Stade de France, also in Paris (Iceland v Austria), and one game at the Stade Geoffroy-Guichard in St. Etienne (England v Slovakia).

Our first game, England v Slovakia, was a late evening kick-off, so we opted to stay in an Airbnb in St. Etienne rather than travel the 4 hours back to Paris by train through the night. And what a friendly young couple they were in that small duplex apartment, even picking us up in their car after the game – and very trusting to have two large, 'potentially' rowdy English footy fans staying in the bedroom next door to their young son! I've already said the England v Costa Rica game in Brazil had been the most uninspiring of 0-0 draws I'd ever had the displeasure to experience – well, this England v Slovakia 0-0 draw turned out to be up there too, and also meant England would only be runners-up in our group, so wouldn't be playing in the last 16 game at the Parc Des Princes that we had tickets for.

The next two games, N. Ireland v Germany and Iceland v Austria, ended up 0-1 and 2-1. And what a sight to see the underdogs of Iceland knock out Austria, with 10% of their population (30,000) doing the Viking War Chant – an extraordinary and perfectly orchestrated slow hand clap, that gradually speeds up into a crescendo. They would then go on to knock England out in the last 16 game with their all-too-familiar high ratio of 'goals:possession'. This, along with my experience of a rowdy Saturday night out in Reykjavik, all reinforced my view that you don't mess with the Vikings!

Since Wales, rather than England, went on to win our group, the last 16 game in Parc Des Princes that we had tickets for turned out to be Wales v N. Ireland and ended up 1-0. Who would have thought that the tiny countries and underdogs of Wales and Iceland would get so far, and that Wales would only eventually succumb in the semis to Portugal and the breathtaking skills of Ronaldo?

One of the treats throughout our stay was the prevalence of good natured, rowdy banter and chanting amongst rival footy fans wherever we went – from the Welsh fans on a crowded metro train singing a chorus of “we know what we are” (referring to their sheep shagging tendencies on the lonely Welsh hills), to thousands of England fans in the main St. Etienne square chanting “show us your tits, show us your tits”, to which the two French girls on the balcony duly obliged. I'm stating the obvious when I say there's absolutely no hope of any kind of political correctness amongst thousands of slightly inebriated soccer fans.

As I said my goodbyes to Luke at Charles De Gaulle airport, before I caught my flight back to New York and he caught his back to London, I looked forward to many more footy tournaments together.

0 notes