#feeling bipolar as hell today but hey!

[sun-lit-goth]

[mayalaen]

Yeah it’s another post about my dad but hey I’m happy because boundaries YAY ME!!

The dude does nothing and won’t even come out of his room to ask me a question, but has this habit of waiting until I hand-deliver his dinner to him in his bedroom to ask me questions.

Stupid questions, but that’s not the point.

By the time I deliver his food, I’ve been up since at least 5am working, cleaning, cooking, and doing all the things. I’m tired, I’m starving, I’m sweating/hot from being in the kitchen, and I just wanna sit down and eat my food.

He can come to me ANY other time and ask all the stupid questions he wants. All I ask is don’t make me stay in your hotbox of a room when I feel like I’m about to faint from exhaustion after cooking YOUR dinner which is different from OUR dinner because you don’t like the same foods we do.

So my mom talked to him a few times about this and said if you still want your food delivered, you gotta stop trying to talk to her and asking her questions. She’s flustered and tries to answer you and is too out of it to stop you.

He’s known for agreeing to anything and doing it for a short period of time, so after a few times of this I said I was done. My mom was like wait gimme one more chance to get through to him.

So I said okay.

He managed to go THREE WEEKS after that - the only thing he says is “thank you” when I go in there.

But dude fucked up last night, and yesterday was not the day to fuck up on boundaries because my mom’s sister (also bipolar and has malignant narcissistic personality disorder like my dad) fucked up TWO things yesterday and I had to put my foot down and take away her access to her medical/doctor account (long story).

So today I told my mom that he used up his last chance and I’m not delivering to his room anymore.

Dude is NOT happy.

But it’s like too fuckin’ bad dude! You had plenty of time to respect my ONE ask and you didn’t. It’s a definite pattern with him - the lack of respect, sympathy, empathy for anyone other than himself.

When his dinner is made, I’ll set it aside in the other room, and my mom will text him that it’s time to retrieve his dinner.

As ridiculous as this all sounds, this is what living with someone who has MNPD is like. If you complain about each of the little things they do one at a time, you sound like the asshole.

Add it all up -- the constant disrespect, lack of space, lack of empathy & compassion, and the CONSTANT gaslighting, and you have a horrible piece of shit that has been alive WAY too long.

If I didn’t suck at boundaries, this would be easier for me, and once my mom is dead, there’s no way in hell I’m going to have anything to do with my dad or my mom’s sister. They’re too fucked up and have done way too much damage.

But I’m SO FUCKING RELIEVED I can just put the plate on the dining table and not even have to look at his stupid face at dinnertime anymore.

*HAPPY DANCE TIME*

[seresinhangmanjake]

i struggle with that too :(

hey, no shame my friend. you're not alone there by far.

but you just have to look at it from a different perspective. I read a lot, and sometimes I think about it like this:

I go to the bookstore, I read the backs of maybe fifteen books before I find one that really speaks to me, that I think 'hell yes, I need to read this because if i don't i might regret it then i will think about it until the end of time because that is how my obsessive brain works,' and then I buy it and I go home and read it and i'm so freakin happy because I connected to it. It made me feel something and thank the good lord for that because I really needed to feel something today, ya know? Then I think back to when I bought the book and realize that was the last copy on the shelf and had it not been there i might never have known that book existed and I would have been robbed! A bunch of people probably picked that last copy up and decided it wasn't for them, but then good, because now its for me!

This is kind of how I view fic writing these days. Or i try to remind myself to view it this way. What isn't for someone else could be the perfect thing for you, and the same goes with the fics we write. What if I write something that makes someone happy? A scarier thought: What if I didn't write something that could have made someone happy because I wasn't sure anyone would like it?

A couple years ago I wrote a Bucky Barnes x reader fic about his bipolar chick. I was not particularly thrilled with it, but i'm bipolar (type 2) and I wanted to write about it with my comfort character. So i did and I put it out there and someone commented that they were also bipolar and it made them feel less alone.

I've written a couple fics for Henry Cavill characters with very insecure readers who struggle to feel loved in relationships regardless of their partner's insistence that they are loved. People commented on those, again saying they feel like they aren't alone and that there were lines I wrote that they keep in their minds when they feel bad.

If you've made it this far, sorry for the rant, but I think it's important to share that sometimes fic writing can be about connecting with people, not whether its the best piece of writing ever put out there.

When I struggle with my writing confidence, this is what I turn to.

[amarantine-amirite]

I Almost Become a Statistic

The day that changed my life began in a quiet neighborhood at dawn on a rainy fall day. Everything felt wet, runny, and out of focus. But it wasn't because of the weather. It was because of everything that happened the night before.

Last night, I learned what high school parties are really like. They're nothing like the movies. Those movies aren't about us; those movies are about our parents. The world was different back then. People back then had no Internet, no Fortnite, no nothing. Today's kids are a whole different beast. We're anxious. We're either too fat or too skinny. And we can't tolerate alcohol...at all!

The kids at my school are on a treadmill. Agnes burns up so much of her energy at school that she has none left for when she gets home. George damaged his kidneys by holding his pee for too long because the teacher wouldn't let him go to the bathroom. He's now on dialysis and has to leave school early for appointments. Dorothy seems to be the only normal one around here, but even then, there's a big asterisk next to normal. Everyone else has so many problems that her untreated bipolar disorder blends into the scenery.

The party was George's idea. He had it at his house because he had a dialysis machine at home. If he needed to top up, he could just do it.

We went to town here. We had laser lights. We had glow sticks. We had The Caretaker as the background music.

We had a good reason to go all out for this party. George Didn't celebrate Halloween as a kid. Nobody in his hometown did. This was his first Halloween party ever.

I'm not joking when I say Agnes doesn't have any energy left after school. I saw her toddle upstairs within less than an hour of the party starting. "Hey Agnes," Dorothy asked, "where are you going?"

"Sleep," Agnes replied as she staggered up the stairs, trying not to trip.

I looked at the time on my phone. "It's only 7:02," I said, "are you sure?"

Agnes looked at me and said, "Positive. I'm absolutely exhausted." I could hear her slur her words. "See ya schmucks tomorrow morning."

She went upstairs to crash on George's folks' bed. Most of the guys hollered and made comments about how she got around. The boys at our school are idiots. If they see a girl in a sexy devil costume go to bed early, they assume she has a boy (or four) up there waiting for her. Agnes did not, and she responded with both of her middle fingers.

"Rose, can you believe that Agnes is that tired so early in the night?" Dorothy asked me. Her pink wig slid off to the side a bit as she fidgeted with her cat's-eye glasses.

I watched to see if Agnes had made it up the stairs. "Actually, I can," I nodded once she was out of earshot, "Agnes wears out super easily."

"Huh," Dorothy remarked, "and all this time, we thought she was just lazy."

"She's not," I said, "she does AP everything, but she can barely get through the work."

As the night passed, the music got more and more eerie and unrecognizable. People were wondering if it was something that they ate. "Here," Dorothy said, "try this". She passed me a bottle full of some golden brown liquid.

I looked at the bottle and drank a bit of it. I probably thought it was iced tea or something. "What the hell is this?" I asked.

"Some rum," Dorothy shrugged.

I looked at the vintage on the bottle. This rum was 600 years old. "How is this not vinegar?"

Dorothy looked at me with a dumbstruck look on her face. "Because it's rum," she said. I don't think she understood that alcohol that old will have reacted with the oxygen in the air and turned into acetic acid

"Yeah," I nodded, "but it's 600 years old."

Dorothy blinked. "It's supposed to be old, da-doi"

I rolled my eyes. Some time in 8th grade, Dorothy adopted da-doi as a substitute for duh. I have no idea what she was thinking, it just sounds so stupid.

Dorothy took another mouthful. She fell over. About an hour later, I noticed she hadn't moved from the kitchen table. I checked her pulse and couldn't feel anything. She wasn't breathing. "Guys," I said to the two girls dressed as Cinderella's stepsisters, "I think Dorothy died.

They didn't believe me, mostly because she got back up at the same time I said this.

Dorothy panicked. "I'm dead?" she gasped. She frantically started taking her pulse. "No, wait, I'm alive," she sighed in relief after she noticed her pulse had come back.

Dorothy had been clinically dead for an hour, but somehow the party kept right on going. By 11:00, the background music wasn't really music anymore at all, just fragments of what had been. Anyone who tuned into the music got an epic spook.

I heard Dorothy chuckle. "What's so funny?" I asked.

Dorothy turned her head and said to me, "You know, Rose, my own misadventure with this 600-year-old rum got me thinking." An evil grin spread across her face.

"You're plotting something," I smirked, "I can tell"

Dorothy looked around to see if George was around. He wasn't. She leaned forward and said quietly, "Well, what if we poured it in George's dialysis machine?"

Now, I'm not the type to tamper with medical devices people need to live for a simple joke, but I went along with it. We went upstairs to George's room and saw him asleep in his Charlie Brown costume and hooked up to the dialysis machine.

Dorothy opened the cap where you put the dialysis fluid, poured just a little bit of the rum into the machine, and ran before he woke up and saw us.

We watched the output of our malevolent handiwork from an open doorway George threw up a couple of times and passed out.

I started to get nervous. What if George didn't wake up? "Don't worry," Dorothy reassured me, "he'll be OK in an hour."

"How do you know?" I asked.

"Because I was only dead for an hour after I drank this, da-doi?". Dorothy can say that as often as she wants, but it still sounds stupid.

Dorothy's comment did nothing to reassure me. Drinking alcohol isn't like pouring it directly into your bloodstream. George could be OK, but he could not be.

I don't remember George's reaction. I don't remember what happened after that. I only remember that by midnight, I found myself in a strange room.

I was alone. I had no recollection of how I got there. I didn't know where I was. I didn't even know if I was still at George's house. I felt a vague sensation of terror and helplessness.

It got worse: a guy who was roughly the same build as I approached me.

He grabbed by the collar of my Devo costume and dragged me down a flight of stairs I didn't even know existed. The hall at the bottom of the stairs had two doors: one with a round handle, the other that folds up like an accordion.

He opened the accordion door and shoved me into a tiny room with a boiler, pipes, the sewage stack, and the gas line packed in on top of each other. The room had no space to maneuver.

"You were born of filth, and to filth, you shall return," he said as he closed the door. I had no idea what that meant.

I needed to leave. I needed to leave now. How would I get out?

I spotted a gap between the sewage stack and the water heater wide enough to go through. It led into a ground-floor bedroom closet. I got out of the closet, climbed out the window and into the backyard.

The backyard had a forest clearing with a great big chessboard. Folding chairs made of sleek metal encircled the chessboard. On the other side of the woods, the front yard unfolded gracefully. A street lamp cast a silvery glow over the incline leading to a driveway that opened onto two distinct streets. One street showcased neighboring houses, while the other led to an apartment building and a crosswalk.

I felt so relieved. I recognized the front yard and the street. I was still at George's house.

That was the good news. The bad news was the guy saw me leave. He knew where I was headed.

I ran towards the apartment building. I hoped I could get inside and explain what was happening, but when I pulled on the door, it was locked. I tried to go up to the vent, but I fell through the ceiling of the third floor.

The cleaner saw me. He looked at me and tipped his head to one side. "I'm surprised to see you drop in like this," he joked.

"Very funny," I chuckled nervously, "but I'm being hunted down by a serial killer"

"Really?" the cleaner said incredulously. I could tell what he wanted to say was she's 5'11.5" and weighs 210 pounds. That has to be one dumb serial killer.

"Where is she?" I heard a familiar voice demand.

I bolted. I heard someone say, "She went that way!"

The elevator pulled up. The doors opened. But he didn't get a chance to catch me. The elevator fell just as he got off. The doors didn't even close; it just dropped.

Now, all elevators have electric brakes on them so that the people in them don't plummet to their deaths. It didn't help. By the time the electric brakes kicked in, he got stuck in an awkward position. His leg and torso hung out over the threshold. The way he landed lodged his knee against his rib cage.

The cleaner heard the commotion, raced upstairs, and called 911. The paramedics showed up a few hours later.

It didn't help. They pulled out a dead body. From the looks of it, he died almost immediately from a broken rib and subsequent internal bleeding.

I went back to the house. I wasn't thinking about whether George was OK from Dorothy's stupid prank. I was just grateful I didn't die.

I learned how unpredictable things are. Nobody's going to come out and say this, but this is the reality. On Thursday, it looks like it's going to be a beautiful day. On Friday, expect the foreboding fog of decay to descend upon you. On Saturday, the forecast calls for secondary succession to reclaim the land. We don't know what happens next

@urfriendlywriter

[melye1981]

To Everyone Who Wants To Know What It's Really Like... To Have Mental Illness... Read this:

Hello, today is Freak out Friday. LOL Um, I am mentally ill, I struggle with it daily, have since I quit having Epileptic seizures around age 10. Didn't know I was mentally ill until I was 27. My parents knew there was SOMETHING wrong, but they couldn't pinpoint it. Sent me to several psychologists when I was a kid and they still couldn't put their finger on it. So, clueless psychologists? Yeah, total quacks. Mental illness is not a joke, not somethin' to ignore when people who are mentally ill, are hitting rock bottom. Be there for them. Even if they say the classic "I'm fine" comment, NO. Stay. You could be the reason they DON'T do any self harm, and I mean something else, y'all know what I mean, I guess we're not allowed to say the "s" word on YouTube now, so gotta be careful, but yeah, your willingness to lend an ear could save a life. Literally. You have no idea what hell mental illness truly is, unless you have it yourself. I'm telling you this from the inside, lookin' out... You're seeing it as from the outside, lookin' in. You only see the cover of the book, but you have to be read the pages, and you won't know the story, unless it's read to you. You get what I mean? Every person is different, every mental illness is different, everyone's way of coping is different. Not one mentally ill person's story is gonna match another's. We can empathize, but we can't be them and their shoes. I only know the miles I've walked in MY shoes. I could try to get you to understand, and you might, a little, but unless you have mental illness yourself, you really have no idea of the hell it brings. I once told someone, this is how I describe my bipolar mind/borderline personality mind: Think of that ride at the fair called The Gravitron. You get in, lean up against the walls, and the ride starts. You get spun really fast one direction, and you stick to the wall, and you could injure yourself if you move the wrong way, then the ride slows a bit, then starts going back the other direction. By the time you get off the ride, you can't walk straight. That's the only way I can describe what that feels like. Wikipedia has great insight if you want to know more, but that is by textbook definition, they're not lying, but it's a general explanation. When you get the information from a mentally ill person themselves, that is the God's honest truth. And it's more brutal than Wikipedia makes it out to be. I take meds every day, but I still have days where I'm just not myself. It is part of who I am, but it does not define me. My mental illness is the result of a careless man who gave me his DNA through my mom, to put it more appropriately, while he was high on H. and so that's what I believe contributed to both my mental illness, learning disabilities, and Epilepsy. But I'm grown now, so I have to just swallow the facts like I drink water. I'm still alive, and there is one thing I find that's special about mentally ill people: The majority of mentally ill people have a high I.Q. and are talented in one way or another. So, I can either cry about being mentally ill, or I can embrace it and say, hey, at least I was blessed with music, art, writing, singing, playing instruments, and speaking and singing in foreign languages as an added blessing to my life. I have talents, many of them, I was blessed in that. Now, trying to keep my mental illness in check while exercising those talents is another thing. It's hit or miss sometimes. It's not easy, but I do it. I get up every morning and I'm here. I am not a victim. No sir. I'm a warrior. That's facts. #AquariusThinkLikeThatTho I am also a survivor of a near-fatal "s" attempt. Been ten years since I tried to end it all, and God wants me here for whatever reason. I wouldn't say I'm a curse. I'm here for a reason. It's never gonna be easy. But I make due with what I've got and the tools God and the world have given me. Now to put them to use and stay focused. It's not easy, but I'm doin' it. Gotta prove the devil wrong

[mundifinis]

Hey there! Follower of yours from SW who’s having to go through the hell of uni applications in the near future, and has no clue what they what to do lol. If it’s not too much trouble — what’s it like studying poli sci? What do your days look like, what’s the courses/degree like, would you recommend, and what… exactly is poli sci? Pros and cons/advantages and disadvantages? I could ask the internet, but I’d just really love to have a reply from someone who’s currently studying it, rather than like a website’s course overview:/. Also— what is international relations, and what’s that like?

No worries to reply at all! Only if you have the time and you don’t mind. Feel free to delete this

omg i love this question! it's a bit lengthy so it'll be under the cut

first off, i do want to say i do go to community college and not like an actual university so i would say my experience (e.g. my days as you mentioned) isn't a common one but political science is essentially just studying the way politics have shaped our lives. for example, last semester i took an intro to international relations course which basically went through the world and politics. we learned about colonialism, different wars, different systems (e.g. bipolar system) and theories, geopolitics, and other stuff that falls under the similar umbrella. i also took a political philosophy course which just required us to read famous philosophers and their works (plato's the republic as well as the communist manifesto and other works) and analyze how they viewed politics and government.

the 4 year uni i'm transferring to in the fall allows us to pick a certain concentration but i assume it's like that for at least a few other places. because there isn't an "official" pre-law major in most universities (at least here in america) some people looking to go to law school may major in poli sci and their courses will be dependent on "law" stuff. because i want to have a concentration in international relations (and to answer your question-- it's essentially the study of interactions between different nations) i would probably take courses about different conflicts or different countries and how they interact and such.

as for advantages, a lot of people shit on poli sci and other social sciences (such as history and cultural anthropology) because "what can you do with it besides teach it?" but because it's a social science, the ability and skill to understand social behavior (yes-- even if you do take poli sci) is heavily needed in the workplace. i know people who have studied poli sci and make 6 figures a year working in HR. obviously, that's not for everyone but i'm just saying, the job field is wider than most people think.

as for disadvantage, i can only think of one and i'm gonna copy and paste it from politicalsciencenotes because it sums it up perfectly "The greatest difficulty is with regard to the changing, ephemeral, ambiguous, subtle, and coercive nature of politics. It cannot be comprehended easily by ordinary and even advanced minds. A political theory which once was regarded empirical and 'scientific' becomes unrealistic, historical and fanciful today." it's continuously changing and nothing is definite. there's not always an answer to everything and it can be very vague. unlike most STEM fields that always have an answer to everything, political science is tricky because it's studying people interacts and people don't fit in one mold and act the same way they do all the time.

i love studying it though but it's not for everybody and that's perfectly okay. i wish you luck for figuring out what you want to do and thank you for asking this question!

[bellafarella]

angst 17 and/or fluff 13 and/or misc 1

choices 😉

Thanks for sending me these!! I wrote for all 3; the angst one is a fic on it’s own, and the fluff & misc are in a fic together. 

The sentences came from this post 

You can also read both of these here: angst & fluff/misc

**********************************************

Put your arms around me

Angst #17: “If you don’t hug me right now I think I might fall apart.”

Ian and Mickey have been taking care of Franny for the past three months. Debbie took off with her loser, new girlfriend and she promises she’ll be back in another two months. She was going to take Franny with her but Mickey offered to let them watch her. Franny got all excited, begging her mom to let her stay with her favorite uncles. Debbie relented and took off the next day. Ian and Mickey have a second bedroom in their new apartment that they were going to convert into a guest room anyway so this became Franny’s room until Debbie comes back for her child. 

Ian picks Franny up from school, meeting her in front. She rips her mask off as she runs over to him, hugging his legs. “Hey Fran,” he greets her, tapping her back.

“Hi,” she says in her tiny voice. “No uncle Mickey?” she asks when she lets go, looking up at him and shrugging her shoulders. 

“Not today, he had something to do,” Ian tells her. “We’ll meet him back at home later.”

“Okay,” she says simply. She takes his hand when he offers it to her and the two walk off school grounds. He asks her how school was as they make their way to the ambulance parked down the street. Ian has Franny ride in the back, strapped in so that she stays safe as he drives them back home. 

They get inside the apartment, Ian locking the door behind them as Franny runs in. “Go wash your hands, Fran,” he yells after her.

“I know!” she yells back in her little voice. 

Ian walks to the kitchen sink to wash his own hands. As he dries them off, he feels his phone vibrating in his pocket. It’s from a private number so he picks up just in case, “Hello?”

“Hello, is this Ian Gallagher?” the person on the other end asks.

“Um, yes, who is this?” he asks, making his way back to the living room where Franny is now dumping her stuff from her school bag on the coffee table.

“I’m calling from South Shore Hospital. We have a Mikhailo Milkovich that was brought in today and -”

“What happened? Is Mickey okay? I’m his husband,” he says in a panic, realizing they must know he’s his husband since they called him.

“Yes, sir. Mikhailo was in an accident, he’s okay, but he’s asked us to call you,” the person tells him. 

“I’m on my way now,” he tells him before the person tells him where exactly he is and then he hangs up. “C’mon Franny, we gotta go get uncle Mickey.”

“Can I bring a toy?” Franny asks.

“Just one,” Ian tells her. 

Franny grabs one of her toys quickly from her room before the two are back out the door and in the ambulance. Ian doesn’t park too close, seeing as this is still a stolen ambulance, and the two walk the rest of the way to the hospital.

Ian finds the nurse’s station of who he spoke to on the phone before she leads him to Mickey’s room. Franny’s holding Ian’s hand as they make their way inside and see Mickey laying on the hospital bed with his leg in a cast. 

“Oh my God, Mick,” Ian says, tears threatening to fall already.

Franny lets go of Ian’s hand to run to Mickey’s side, she looks at him and he says, “Hey, kid.”

“Are you okay, uncle Mickey?” she asks so softly he barely hears it.

“I’m okay,” he tells her but he looks up at Ian, nodding his head softly, reassuringly.

Ian joins them closer to Mickey and leans down, kissing him softly on the lips. He pulls back and asks, “What the hell happened?”

“Some jackass wasn’t looking and hit me with his fuckin’ car,” Mickey tells him. “Fractured my leg. They said I’ll be in this cast for like six to eight weeks.”

Ian looks down at his leg in the cast and how this could have been so much worse. A fractured leg is nothing but had this car hit him harder or at a different angle and - 

Ian starts tearing up and Mickey says, “Hey, Ian, I’m okay,” his hand grabbing his where it’s resting on the bed beside him.

“If you don’t hug me right now I think I might fall apart,” Ian tells him, letting the tears slip down his cheeks.

“Come here,” Mickey mumbles, pulling him closer. Ian leans down and Mickey wraps his arms around Ian awkwardly seeing as he’s sitting up in bed and Ian’s crouching down.

Ian shoves his face in the crook of Mickey’s neck and lets the tears fall, breathing in his scent, and praying to whatever God there is that his husband is okay and here in his arms.

Ian feels Franny hugging his legs so he pulls back and lifts her up. Mickey pats the bed next to him, away from his broken leg, and Ian puts her down next to him. Ian sits in the chair, pulling it right up beside the bed and waits. The doctor comes in not much longer to explain to them both what Mickey can and cannot do for the first couple of weeks and how recovery will go, before they are free to go. 

Ian wheels Mickey out of the hospital in a wheelchair with Franny walking closely beside him. He brings Mickey all the way to their stolen ambulance in the wheelchair, helps him into the vehicle and tells them both to wait there before rushing back to return the wheelchair and running back to get them all home. 

That night while they’re lying in bed, Ian sleeping on the other side of his fractured leg, he snuggles close, resting his head on his chest. “I felt like my heart was going to drop out of my ass when I got a call from the hospital saying you were in an accident,” Ian whispers.

Mickey’s arm is wrapped around him and he’s soothingly running his fingers up and down Ian’s arm. “I’m okay,” he says softly. 

“It could have been so much worse though, Mick…”

“It wasn’t though. I’m right here,” Mickey reassures him.

“Uncle Mickey?” they hear from the open doorway. 

“C’mon in, Fran,” Mickey tells her. 

“Be careful of uncle Mickey’s leg,” Ian reminds her. 

Franny slowly climbs onto the bed, Ian moving over so she can get in the middle. She snuggles right up against Mickey like Ian just was and says, “I’m happy you’re okay.”

“Me too,” Mickey tells her, kissing her forehead. 

Ian snuggles up behind her, reaching his arm over so he can hold Mickey’s hand. Mickey squeezes his hand and the three of them fall asleep together, thankful that Mickey’s okay.

/////////////

A teenage crush 

Misc #1: “All I do is drink coffee and say bad words.” & Fluff #13: “Are you flirting with me?” “You finally noticed?”

Ian hates his warehouse job. Well, he doesn’t hate one part about it, which is his very grumpy but very hot supervisor, who on his first day meeting him was told, “All I do is drink coffee and say bad words.” It immediately made Ian like him. 

Ian hasn’t had a legal job since he worked at the Kash’n’Grab when he was like fourteen. So much has happened in the last ten years. Most of it bad but also some good. He was able to finally get stable after being diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder like his mother and he found himself this job. It’s been about six months that he’s working for Amazon and the only good part about coming to work every day is seeing his supervisor. 

Usually people don’t develop massive crushes on their superiors but not Ian. The first day he started and he met Mickey Milkovich, Ian thought his heart would jump out of his chest. He’s never felt this way before. He’s been with plenty of men in his short lifetime but there’s something about Mickey that - mmph. He makes Ian act like a teenager with a crush again. 

Mickey is abrasive. He has crude knuckle tattoos. He has the most fowl, dirty mouth Ian’s ever heard. He has piercing blue eyes and black hair. He’s been at the center of Ian’s dreams for the past six months. 

He has no idea what Mickey’s sexuality is. They don’t hang out. Mickey’s the warehouse supervisor, he’s his boss. They chat here and there but it’s never anything more than pleasantries. Mickey doesn’t do small talk and has told him multiple times to ‘shut the fuck up and get back to work, Gallagher’. But Ian has his suspicions. He’s noticed Mickey’s eyes wandering his body when he comes into work in tight shirts or if his jeans are a little more snug than he normally wears. 

Ian tries to get Mickey to notice him more than just his employee. He wants to spend time with him outside of work. He wants to bend him over and fuck him, give him the best dick he’s ever had. 

Ian snaps out of it, trying to get back to work. He continues going through the box, making sure the products aren’t expired. It’s not the most thrilling job Ian’s ever had but it’s a stable job, a stable paycheck - even if it’s minimum wage - so it’s giving him the security and stability he needs in his life right now. 

“Gallagher,” he hears and knows immediately it’s Mickey. He smiles to himself before turning around to see the shorter man making his way over with his trusty clipboard. He looks so good today. He looks good everyday but today he has on some dark blue jeans and a burgundy crewneck sweater that’s rolled up his forearms.

“Hey, Mick, what’s up?” Ian says, going for nonchalant and not like he was just checking his boss out.

Mickey rolls his eyes slightly like he always does when Ian says Mick. No one else calls him that but he doesn’t tell Ian to stop so he doesn’t, he likes the tiny smile he sometimes gets from him when he calls him that. “When you’re done with those, come see me in my office,” he tells him.

Ian gets a sudden wave of nausea and panic. Mickey must notice because he clicks his tongue and says, “Man, calm down, you’re fine. Just - come see me after, yeah?”

Ian nods, mutters out a, “Yeah,” before Mickey walks away. 

Ian works quickly, wanting this over with so he could see what Mickey wants. He said you’re fine so this can’t be a bad thing, he can’t be getting fired… right?!

Less than an hour later, Ian knocks on Mickey’s open door. He has a tiny office in the corner of the warehouse. It’s not much but it’s his own private space so that must be nice. “Hi,” he says softly when Mickey looks up.

“Come in, shut the door,” Mickey tells him.

Ian nervously steps inside, closing the door behind him before walking over to the chair on the other side of Mickey’s desk and sits down. Mickey says, “So I have a job opportunity for you.”

“What?” Ian asks a little louder than he expected.

Mickey smiles softly before it disappears. “Yeah, man, what did you think I was gonna fire your  ass?”

“Kind of,” Ian tells him honestly, making Mickey laugh.

Mickey clicks his tongue, “I told you you were fine, man.”

“How fine?” Ian tries to flirt.

It fails because Mickey’s eyebrows shoot up and he asks, “What?”

“Nothing, so a job opportunity?”

“Uh, yeah, so I’m leaving and they need a new warehouse supervisor and figured you should do it,” Mickey tells him.

“Wait - what? Where are you going?” 

“Another job opportunity elsewhere for more pay. So, you interested or not? You get a higher salary and benefits.”

“Why me? I’ve only been here six months,” Ian asks confused.

“It won’t be for another couple months or so but - look, you’re a hard worker, you don’t take any shit, you work quickly and efficiently and you’re always on time and never call in sick. I was told to choose a replacement and I chose you,” Mickey explains, shrugging a little right at the end, looking a little nervous.

Ian smiles softly. Hearing Mickey say these things about him - things he’s noticed about him, it makes him feel really good. “Fuck yeah - I - sorry, yes, I’m definitely interested in the job,” Ian stammers.

Mickey smiles at him and nods. “Good so there’s like paperwork and shit you’re gonna need to fill out. Do you have anywhere to be right after your shift or can we do that then?”

“That works,” Ian grins.

Mickey nods again before saying, “Cool, now get the fuck out of my office and get back to work, Gallagher.”

Ian can’t get rid of his grin as he stands and leaves his office. He’s getting a promotion and Mickey won’t be his boss soon so he needs to try and seal the deal soon. Spending some time together after work is exactly what Ian had been hoping for since he started this job.

Ian’s working late tonight, doing some overtime since a few people called out today so by the end of his shift it just seems to be him and Mickey left in the warehouse. He quickly uses the washroom, making sure he doesn’t look too much like shit before heading to Mickey’s office. Just like earlier, the door is open so he knocks on the side lightly and says, “Hey,” before walking in and going to sit across from him.

“Hey, did everyone else fuck off yet?” Mickey asks him.

Ian can’t help but chuckle lightly. “Yeah, just us.”

Mickey hums, eyeing Ian. Ian sees this look, appreciates it, and definitely wants to jump on it but before he can, Mickey looks down at his desk and grabs a stack of papers. “So, this is what you gotta fill out. Mostly stupid information shit we already know and just some other forms mostly for you to keep that shows proof of your increase in salary and the benefits you’ll get. Just need to make sure you sign the copies for us and the rest you keep,” he explains.

Ian takes it from Mickey’s offering and quickly glances through it. “Do you need this back right away?” he looks up to see Mickey watching him.

“Nah, just bring our copies back whenever,” Mickey tells him. He thumbs at his bottom lip gently and Ian just wants to bite it. “Don’t wanna keep you if you got somewhere to be or whatever.”

Ian smirks, “Are you flirting with me?”

Mickey smirks right back and says, “You finally noticed?”

This shocks Ian. “Sorry what?! When did you ever flirt with me before?” he asks.

Mickey rolls his eyes, “Maybe it ain’t obvious or whatever but I’m your boss, man… can’t just straight up tell you I want you to fuck me in my office.”

Ian’s heartbeat speeds up and blood rushes straight to his cock, it twitching in his jeans. “You - I -”

“Just get the fuck on me already,” Mickey says, putting him out of his misery.

Ian stands, pushing his chair back. He walks around the desk in time for Mickey to stand before  he’s grabbing his face in his hands and kissing him hard on the lips. Mickey moans into the kiss, his hands grabbing onto Ian’s waist and pulling him hard against him. Ian brings his right hand down Mickey’s side and to his thigh, lifting it slightly and pushing Mickey up against his desk before he hops up and sits on it, Ian getting in between his legs.

“Wanted this for so long,” Ian tells him as he kisses his way down his jaw and to his neck. 

“Mmm, me too,” Mickey says, running his fingers through Ian’s hair and keeping his head where it is, sucking on his neck.

Ian pulls back slightly, looking into those piercing blue eyes that he’s fantasized about looking back at him just this way. They hear a noise from outside of his office so Ian steps back. Mickey jumps off the desk and makes his way to the door. He looks out and turns back to Ian, “Just the cleaning crew. We should probably -”

“You wanna come over? Um, if you want to like pick up where we left off?” Ian asks hopefully, a small smile on his face.

“You live alone?” Mickey asks, eyebrow cocked.

“Um… no,” Ian says, sadness creeping in that his one shot with Mickey got ruined.

“I do. Grab your shit and let’s go back to my place, Red,” Mickey flirts.

Ian grins, doing exactly what he’s told before the two of  them rush out of there and Ian gets exactly what he’s wanted for the past six months, Mickey Milkovich, more than just his boss.

Send me some sentence prompts 

[celiamae99]

Sparks Fly -- L.G.

Falling in love with my best friend was never the plan. I mean a girl from the South Side who was just trying to get a two year degree and ignoring the fact that her parents were never coming back, falling for the man who was a recovering alcoholic who had an addict and alcoholic father an a bipolar mother who had the potential to get a degree from any college he wanted?

What could possibly go wrong?

“Come on, get in, I’ll drive you the the bar for work.” Lip told me getting up from the couch, as I was getting ready to walk to work.

“You just got back from work,” I reminded him. I knew that after his shift at the garage he would want to sleep, but he ignored my comment and slipped his coat on an a hat over my head.

“It’s negative ten degrees out,” he commented. “The fuck you’re walking to the bar from here.”

“But—“ I tried to protest but it was useless.

“Get your ass in the car, Lily.”

I never thought the passenger seat of lips old car would ever be as inviting as it was, but as we listened to music and he smoked, I realized I was in love with Lip. Fuck.

The worst part was, and I knew it, was that everybody basically knew that I liked Lip, besides Lip. He was the only consistent person in my life besides Fiona and Ian, and the only true person to care about me in a way that was more special than Ian and Fiona did. I loved my Gallagher’s like they were my own, but Lip was different.

He could smile at me and I would forget how to breathe. He could hold me in bed and I would forget all my problems. He punched a kid at a party who tried to roofie me and I swear in that moment I had never felt more loved.

He held me the whole night as I cried for hours because my mom was never coming back home, never once getting upset even though he had brought it up before.

He held me two days after I got raped and I refused to leave Carl’s bed. He slid in behind me as I faced the wall and held me for hours and hours. He didn’t make me talk, he didn’t make me cry, he didn’t have me look at him. He held me until I was able to to turn around and face him and the truth of what had happened.

He was there when my dad had died. He came to the funeral, he held my hand, he made small talk with my grandma and everything. He sat with me while I sat by the grave and cried after everybody had left.

He was there when nobody else was.

“It’s just so hard at night,” he commented as he flicked his smoke. “That’s when it all sets in and I can only thinking about alcohol.”

“How do you not drink?” I asked. “I mean you come to the bar and hangout with me, V, and Kev, and then you go home and everybody but me and Debby drink. I just don’t know how you do it.” I commented, pulling my leg to my chest.

“Honestly? It’s why I sneak into yours and Liam’s room.” I stared at him and waited for him to continue. “Liam’s basically my child. And sometimes just watching you both so peacefully is enough to get me through the night.”

“What about when Liam sleeps with Carl or Debby because I work late?” That was the real question. Lip ended up in my room almost every night, whether Liam was there or not. Most nights, because I worked the bar until closing, Liam slept in Debby’s room or with Carl. That didn’t stop Lip from climbing into bed with me.

He scratched the back of his neck, his nervous tick. “I think you’re my light in a dark place.” He muttered. “You stood by me through it all, ya know? Karen, Fiona, Frank, Marcia, the stuff with school, Ian, Debby having a baby, rehab, twice. You were just always there. The one consistent thing in my life.” He focused solely on the road and I smiled to myself. “And even when you’re sleeping, I know it’s enough to keep me from stopping to drink.”

I grabbed his hand lightly and threaded our fingers together, and kissed his cheek. “Stay at the bar until I close?” I asked quietly. Lip kissed the back of my hand and my cheeks flamed rosy red.

“Don’t I always?” It was true, when I worked at the bar, Lip stayed and had one to many cokes and scared off the spiteful men that tried to get in my pants.

“Sometimes you you go off with a girl,” I muttered bashfully. I did not want Lip to know the sinking feeling I got in my stomach when I knew he was with a girl.

“Haven’t since I got out of rehab.” He breathed lowly. I thought back on it. Had it been that long? Really? “You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

I gave an embarrassing smile. “Are you saying I’m only cute when I’m jealous of other girls?”

Lip didn’t miss a beat. “You’re always cute. You’re cute when you cling yourself to me even though half the bed is yours. You’re cute when you try to reason with Carl and you scrunch your nose up. You’re cute when you and Liam dance in the kitchen to Johnny Cash. You’re cute when you get angry at your chemistry homework. Scratch that, you’re hot when you’re angry. You’re cute when you come home from work and just drop into bed after changing into my shirt. You’re cute when you blush. You’re cute when you wake up in the morning. You’re cute when I come downstairs and you’re making breakfast in my shirt and boxers. I think that’s when I find you the cutest.” I stared at Lip as he pulled into the bar. “What?” He asked as he felt my stare on him.

“You -- you,” I stumbled for words. “How the hell am I suppose to go to work for seven hours with all I want to do is kiss you?” 

Lip barked out a laugh. “Well, princess, I guess you’ll just have to wait until after the ball for you prince charming to kiss you.”

I scoffed, and swung myself over the console, straight on to Lip’s lap.

“Not even a kiss for the girl who’s sitting on your lap?” I leaned my head to one side and let my hair fall around us like a blanket.

“If I’m going to kiss you,” He breathed into my ear making me shiver, “It’s going to be my moment. This,” He gestured between us. “Is extremely hot, don’t get me wrong, and I don’t think I’ve ever been more turned on, and you better believe we are going to do it in the car, but our first moment will not be here.”

“Okay,” I muttered, trying to ignore the bile in my stomach from rejection and tried to think of the possibilities that would happen when I left work.

“Hey,” He gripped my thighs tightly. “I want this badly, baby. Just not like this. You deserve special. And this isn’t special.” My heart fluttered, he knew I had never been with anyone or done anything, that I was waiting for the right person. I didn’t want what happened with my parents to ever happen with me.

“Okay,” I said more bashfully, now shy at my forwardness, biting my lip.

“Don’t do that,” Lip said, gripping my thighs tighter. 

“Don’t do what?” I muttered, confused.

“You bite your lip.” I stared at him, very confused.

“Yeah, so? I do it all the time,” I muttered off handedly, failing to notice the problem.

“It’s hot.” Blushed bright red for what felt like the hundredth time today.

“It’s hot when I do that, but yet you don’t want to kiss me?” I quirked my eye at the 23 year old. 

“Come here,” He muttered. He pulled me to his chest and I shifted to get comfortable. That’s when I felt it. He was hard. “Yeah, that,” He muttered softly. “Is from you. And it’s probably going to stay that way until we get back to the house.”

“I should get to work,” I muttered, my hot breath making goosebumps arise on his neck.

“And Liam is sleeping with somebody else tonight. The only person who gets you tonight is me.” I kissed his pulse point softly before scrambling out of the car, looking at a flustered Lip.

“Are you coming?” I asked, looking back at him, finally noticing how flustered he was. “Awe, are you the one that’s all hot and bothered now?” I giggled.

He glared at me before hopping quickly out of the car and dashing towards me. I shrieked and made a mad dash for the bar. I quickly ran in and ran behind Kev. “Save me,” I pleaded as Lip came in flying behind me. 

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you for the pretty lady.” Lip said with a fake, horrible, British accent. I squealed and ran into the back.

Kev laughed, “Y’all are idiots!” Kev called after us as Lip chased me.

“I got you,” he slammed me against the door of the girls bathroom and I took a deep breath as his hot breath fanned my face and his arms went above my head.

“Yeah, and what are you gonna do about it mister. As far as we’re concerned nothing’s happening until after my shift.” I said in the brattiest voice I could muster.

“Don’t be a brat just because you’re not getting your way,” he threaded his fingers through my hair and tugged harshly. I gulped. I knew this was what I wanted.

“Right,” I nodded slowly. “But I am a brat, so what are you going to do about it?” I taunted, pushing my chest forward, knowing how to use my assets.

Lip took a deep breath as his eyes glanced between my eyes and my chest.

“You’re going to go to work and then when we get home,” He moved so his hands were set just below my breasts and he rubbed the underside of them. My breath hitched in my throat. “Then, we will have fun, you brat.”

I’ll admit, him calling me a brat turned me on more than I wanted to admit. “Okay, I mumbled.”

“Now go work before Kev comes and yells at you.” Lip muttered, kissing my forehead firmly. I pranced out to the bar, knowing full well that Lip was watching my ass.

Throughout my shift, I knew Lip was watching me. I laughed with Veronica throughout the whole shift.

“V!” I giggled as she made another joke about Kev. “You can’t say that about your husband!”

“Lip’s looking at you again,” She wiggled her eyebrows and gave me a knowing look. My cheeks flamed bright red. “You finally admit that you guys like each other?” 

“Kinda,” I muttered. “We’re not gonna define it, I don’t think.” I said softly. “The last thing he needs is me going crazy on him trying to define something when we don’t even know what it is.”

“Girl, you trippin’ if you don’t see how he looks at you.” I stared at her blankly. “I mean, you both have had eyes on each other for years.”

“Yeah, maybe me, but no way for him.” I mumbled wiping a glass. “He had Karen, and then he had Mandy. Then he had that thing with his professor and then quickly moved on to Sierra. And I look nothing like them. Plus I have all my scars and that’s a lot of trauma.”

“Look at me.” She said softly. “It doesn’t matter that you don’t look like them, baby. He loves you and that’s what matters. Your trauma is also his, he’s been there through it all. Also, you’ve been with him through all the things too. He loves you girl, don’t doubt that.” V told me honestly. “Plus, you’re hot as fuck girl.”

After my shift, V told me that she would lock everything up with Kev. I smiled as Lip pulled me into his side. 

“You ready to go home?” He asked, glancing down at me as I nervously fidgeted.

“Yeah, but,” I hesitated briefly, “Can we take it slow?” I whispered, nervously.

“Yeah,” He muttered, pressing his lips to forehead. “Whatever you want.” 

My heart warmed at his sweetness and I hugged him tightly as we made our way to Lip’s car. I gnawed my lip as he opened my car door. I was in for a long night.

[unbridgeabledistances]

so ik we aren’t sure if the camo kiss was cut or not, but i wrote it just in case:) this takes place directly after 11x04!

(also i am still working on prompts after a little break, those will b up soon!<3)

--

Ian stumbled up the front steps of the Gallagher house, trying not to pay too much attention to the heavy metal music and the roar of the bonfire coming from the lot beside the house. He fumbled in the cheap fabric pockets of his military outfit to try and find his housekeys (Frank had started being vigilant about locking the front door since what he was calling the “Great Milkovich Invasion”). Mickey was a couple of steps behind him, stopping to lean over the chain link fence and flipping off one of his more scraggly-looking cousins who had just taken it upon himself to yell “military pussies” as Ian and Mickey walked by- honestly, not the worst insult they could have shouted, considering they’d had all day to brew up new combinations of slurs after seeing Mickey and Ian walk by in their uniforms on their way to Kev and V’s that morning.

Ian slid the key in the lock, and turned around to call to Mickey, who was still hurling insults at his bearded cousin as the moonlight bounced off his face.

“Better watch your fucking back, Gary, ‘cause my window’s right up there above you, and I’d hate to accidentally do some target practice during your little sleepover under the stars out here.”

Ian rolled his eyes. “Hey, sharpshooter, you wanna come inside?”

Mickey cast one more glare at the tattered group of Milkoviches, then reached over the fence to take the can of beer one of them was holding.

“Better sleep with one eye open, assholes.”

Mickey turned and finally ambled up the creaking front steps, ducking under Ian’s arm that was holding the door open into the warm glow of the living room. Mickey kicked off his boots and threw them onto the living room floor, then took a sip of his stolen lukewarm beer and grinned, his defensive facade completely melting away now that they were safely indoors.

“Nice first day, Gallagher. Might have to give you a promotion soon.”

Ian rolled his eyes even more aggressively as he crouched down and untied the shoelaces of his bulky pleather military boots.

“Oh yeah? I don’t remember saying I was interested in being employed on a regular basis.”

Mickey took a final sip of the stolen beer and winced, then crushed the can on the back of the couch. “Well I guess today’s your lucky day then, lover. I ended your job hunt right before it even started.”

Mickey took off the flimsy camo pageboy hat and tossed it on the ground next to his shoes. “You want a beer? That shit was disgusting.”

Ian smirked, pulling off his boots and putting them by the door. “Yeah, sure.”

Mickey strode into the kitchen, while Ian scooped up Mickey’s discarded boots and hung up his hat by the door.

“I still can’t believe they had all that fucking weed just lying around, man!” Mickey called from the kitchen, opening the fridge and making the bottles clang as he fumbled for two beers.

Ian smirked and ambled into the kitchen, settling against the edge of the countertop. Mickey handed him a beer, which Ian opened on the side of the counter and slowly took a sip.

“Yeah. It’s fuckin’ crazy.”

Mickey was standing inches in front of him, twisting off the cap of his own beer and smiling with bright eyes, like he was glowing from this absurdly weird day going exactly as he had planned. Ian had the sudden thought that maybe it had- while Mickey seemed to act like he didn’t want to wear the camo gear that Ian discovered in the back corner of the dingy army supply store, Ian was starting to realize that Mickey getting him to play dress-up all day while they did the security job might have been exactly what Mickey had in mind when he was giving Ian shit at the store. As if confirming Ian’s thoughts, Mickey smiled a half-smile and poked him in the chest, giddy.

“Gallavich security, bitch. No more faking pay stubs for my P.O., the two of us are gonna make a killing just fucking hauling weed around all day.”

Ian barked out a laugh as he set his bottle down on the counter and pulled himself up to sit on the edge. “Gallavich security?”

“Fuck yeah, bitch. We’re going official. The name sounds totally badass anyways, gotta let everyone know what we mean business.”

Ian smirked. “Hm, okay. And since both of our names are in the business title, does that mean I still work for you? Or does it mean that we’re partners now?”

Mickey stepped closer, eyebrows raised and his tone playful. “Well, I don’t know. That depends on how hard you work, how you do in your employee review. You’re the one always talking about work ethic and all that shit.”

Ian rolled his eyes, but reached his arms up to comfortably rest over Mickey’s shoulders. “Oh yeah, boss? And how’d I do today?”

Mickey took a second to respond, leaning in closer now that he was ensnared in Ian’s grasp. His eyes flickered to Ian’s lips, then back up to meet Ian’s eyes with that intoxicated, heavy-lidded look he always had when Ian’s face was inches from his.

“Not sure yet. You gonna work with me again tomorrow?” Mickey retorted, a little more softly.

Ian sighed. “If I say yes, will you get off my fucking back about the fact that you have a job and I don’t?”

Mickey leaned his face in closer, then reached up and pulled Ian’s cheap camo hat off of his head.

“Deal.”

And then they were kissing, and Ian’s arms were pulling Mickey closer and cradling the back of his head in his hands—they were kissing, and for the first time in weeks they weren’t kissing because they had been fighting, or because they wanted a quick fuck and needed to blow off some steam, but because they wanted to be closer to each other, kissing because they were finally on the same team. He and Mickey were wearing matching fucking costumes, and they probably looked fucking ridiculous—but they were actually working together for once, were actually standing hand in hand in front of whoever crossed their path. While the day had begun with Ian reeling in panic that Mickey would do something illegal or stupid or both and end up in prison and away from him again, now Ian couldn’t shake the warmth that overtook him, sitting on the kitchen counter with his legs wrapped around a warm and thrumming Mickey, who had softened the second that Ian decided to get off the couch and be with him all day.

Perching on the kitchen counter, feeling his husband’s hungry lips press against his again and again, Ian couldn’t help but think that this wasn’t the way he’d envisioned wearing camo someday back when he was 16 and in ROTC; hell, he never would have imagined that he would have gone to jail someday when he was 16, or that he would preach in a church to crowds of hundreds of people, or that he would be bipolar— but the most surprising thing of all in his life was the fact that he would actually get to love Mickey Milkovich, that he was married to the dirt-smudged shit-talking teenage boy he’d spent his whole life wanting to be close to. The Gallagher kitchen had undoubtedly seen its fair share of make-out sessions, between him and Trevor or Caleb or whoever—but Ian couldn’t help but think that this moment with Mickey felt like the only kiss that mattered, the only time that Ian wasn’t putting on an act. Mickey was the only person that Ian didn’t have to pretend for, the only one who was his exact brand of crazy— Mickey was the only one Ian could think of who wouldn’t scoff at Ian’s idea of wearing matching outfits to do a security job, and instead got dressed and walked down the street beside him, got giddy at the fact they could spend the day together. Ian had never known where his life would take him, but building a business with the love of his life seemed like a pretty good start.

Ian’s hand slid from the back of Mickey’s head and down his neck, and he let his fingers rest over the camo-printed lapels of Mickey’s shirt, right in the spot he knew Mickey’s tattoo was. Mickey trailed kisses down the side of Ian’s neck, pulling him in closer.

“Love you, love you so fucking much,” Mickey mumbled as he crashed their lips together again.

And as Ian grasped the back of Mickey’s hair once more, breathing him in, he knew that this was exactly where he was supposed to be.

[missskzbiased]

I Hate That I’m Afraid to Lose You (5)

Genre: Romance, Friendship, Angst, Hurt /Confort , Suggestive, Fluff, College Au, Enemies to Friends to Lovers Au, REALLY Slow burn, Love Square (?)

Pairing: Hyunjin X Fem!Reader  X Han X OC

WC: ~ 5,3K

[Previous] [Chap] [Next]

Masterlist

Warnings (general*): Language, Mentions of (Physical abuse, Death/ Loss of Loved One, Child Abandonment/Neglect, Divorce, Toxic Parents, Cancer, Mental disorder, Anxiety Attack, Alcohol, Food), Suggestiveness (?) 

Notes: This chapter is a little bit more angsty. I’d say this is the most angst of the one I’ve written until now (11 chap), from here it will take a lighter turn. Kind of.

It contains a description of an anxiety attack. Though I already warned about it, I think I should do it again. The way I described the anxiety attack and the bipolarity of MC’s mother has to do with my own experiences and none of it necessarily reflects all kinds of manifestations of those above.

Feedbacks are always appreciated.

REMINDER: I’m neither a psychologist nor a psychology student.

Updates: I’ll update it once a week [Tuesdays] because I still have to write the chapters to come and review the ones I already wrote

                                                      ///

   Hyunjin came into the classroom with wide steps, graceful as always, and you burst out laughing.

    He waved friendly to Paris before blushing ─ flustered with your outburst ─ and averting his eyes, walking quickly to his seat as all of you waited for Professor Lee. He sat down next to Paris, making sure he didn’t look your way; eyes focusing straight ahead before Paris turned to him smiling, talking about something you didn’t pay attention.

   Last night came back to your mind.

   The last thing you expected when you came into your place was to see Paris and Hyunjin sitting on the couch holding ice cream pots ─ both of them with their knees to their chin, a spoon hanging from their mouth as their eyes focused on the screen ─, completely taken aback by something that happened on a movie. Therefore, after you came into your dorm complaining about your day, exhausted by your classes and your work, to witness this scene, you could only stop in your tracks, mouth agape as you watched both of them distracted.

   You giggled, eyeing them before muffling your laugh with your hand, shaking your head in disbelief.

   You wished you had filmed them.

   You could remember clearly how Hyunjin widened his eyes when he saw you dumbfounded, holding the doorframe; his knees straightened abruptly, letting the pot fall from his hand to the floor, the spoon falling to the couch as his mouth opened and closed a bunch of times. He cursed under his breath as he picked up the pot, bashfully trying to fix his mess and avert his eyes, floundering as he mumbled, excusing himself because it was already too late and he had classes in the morning.

  “—Don’t you think, Y/N?” Paris turned to you, smiling brightly, and you nodded ─ even though you didn’t hear a thing ─, frowning as you heard Hyunjin gasp, clearly surprised by your answer, making you wonder what you got yourself into this time “So that’s it! We’re going to a party this Friday” She decided and you choked, coughing to recompose yourself.

   “We’re doing what?!” Hyunjin muffled a laugh, looking amused at you as you widen your eyes, surprised “You know we have to finish our project! We can’t just go partying!” You whined, making Paris roll her eyes at you as she mouthed something silently, mocking you “Hey!” You nudged her “I mean it! We have work to do!” You insisted but this time Hyunjin spoke up.

   “Would you be writing something Friday night?” His face showed he knew you wouldn’t, looking at you with a smug expression that made you poke your tongue against your cheek, bothered “Exactly!” He smiled at himself, proud you didn’t answer him, taking it as a victory.

   “But I would write on Saturday! So if we party on Friday it’ll disturb our work on Saturday” You retorted, making him roll his eyes “What? Not everyone is unoccupied like you! I work every day, remember?” You scoffed, and Paris sighed.

   “Come on? For me?” She looked at you with puppy eyes “It’s been ages since you came to a party with me! We could even invite Han and Chan! It will be fun” her eyes twinkled as she clasped her hands, waiting for your answer.

   “Okay… Why invite him though?” You tsked before muttering, resting your cheek on your hand, your elbow on the desk as you watched Mr.Lee finally arriving. Paris chuckled and shrugged before opening her notebook and looking ahead too.

   “I think you two should hang out a little bit, know each other so we can make a good project! Don’t you want to ace this?” She smiled triumphantly, knowing you would never turn down a chance to ace anything. You narrowed your eyes at her, scoffing.

   “You’re a sly one, I see…” She laughed, turning her attention to Mr.Lee, who was clearing his throat to get everyone’s attention.

   The classes didn’t have anything too different this time, few discussions now and then, some people complaining about the project… The usual. When the bell finally rang, you turned your head to Paris as you wiped everything inside your bag, watching her doing the same, ready to get up and meet up with Han.

   “Do you want to eat with us?” She asked Hyunjin, a friendly smile on her face “We’ll be eating with Han today” She added, waiting for his answer. Your eyes darted to Hyunjin, who shifted his weight, an unease frown on his face. You realized he would probably be uncomfortable to come along with you considering he fought with Han.

   “Maybe next time? Han mentioned he wanted to talk to us” You lied, noticing how he seemed to relax, looking in your eyes, puzzled. He probably didn’t understand why you jumped in to help him. It wasn’t really about helping him though, it was about making sure your lunch would go smoothly, a peaceful day ahead of you.

   “Yeah, next time” He nodded “I’m going to meet Chan today anyway, so… Yeah” You arched your brow; sure he was lying as well. Paris didn’t seem to notice anything, so she just waved goodbye and followed you to the halls, meeting an anxious Han out there. He eyed you both, smiling awkwardly when his eyes stopped on you.

   “Hey?” He said in a high pitch, making you narrow your eyes “So… You’re okay?” You tilted your head, confused, nodding to him. What the hell was that about? You three made your way to the stairs, chatting up, and you couldn’t help but notice Han was acting really weird for now. You got on the line ─ each one of you choosing something different to eat so you could share ─, before finally sitting down, looking at your friend as he focused on his food, pretending not to notice you.

   “Okay, what’s the deal?” You sighed, resting your fork on the plate, the tinkling sound getting Paris and Han's attention “You’re acting weird! If this is about Hyunjin, I already know you punched him, you don’t need to hide it or whatever” He shot his brows up, clearly surprised by the reveal, but not as much as Paris.

   “You did what?!” She dropped her fork on her plate, mouth agape “Why would you hit him? Can’t you be expelled or… I don’t know, I don’t understand your sports things!” Her eyes were worried and alert, unlike her usual attitude, and Han swallowed his food, weighing his words.

   “You see… No, I wasn’t expelled because no one is really talking about it… I didn’t do much, it was only two punches and he didn’t make a scene either” He explained “Yeah, I know it was irresponsible, I could have lost my chance in this match, I know” He rolled his eyes before Paris could speak up “I just… When I saw you crying, I was so sure he had played you!” He looked at you, ashamed, and you snorted.

   “You thought what?” Your voice was high pitched, amused by his delusional self “Han, I don’t like him! I told you a million times, for lord’s sake! I was watching him that day because I was curious, man… I told you! I don’t have a crush and I will never have a crush on Hyunjin, you have to get this on your brain” You whined, making him laugh.

   “Wait! You thought Hyunjin had hurt her feelings and you just went straight to him and punched him?! Han, you could have lost your chance!” Paris scolded, far more serious than you and him. She was upset, the frown on her face made it pretty clear; her clenched jaw didn’t let much doubt either.

  “She’s right! You shouldn’t even have thought about getting in a fight, in the first place! It’s ridiculous” You were fast to agree with her “What did you think? That you were going to defend my honor or something? Also, you didn’t even explain yourself! He’s thinking you were mad because of a random girl!” He frowned at this, confused.

   “No, he knows exactly why I punched him” He tilted his head, a lost expression on his face “I said that he deserved it for making you cry… Chan even scolded me after this and…” He eyed Paris, unsure “And told me it was a family issue” He decided to state, searching any signs of anger on your eyes for what he just said.

   You were dumbfounded.

   “Wait… He knew you hit him because of me?” You asked surprised. You had a clear memory of him saying Han should have done it because he was jealous of his face. You weren’t crazy. Also, Chan knew it? If Chan scolded him, he surely was close to the fight… He even told Han it was a family issue? So why the hell he didn’t expose Hyunjin?

    Then it struck you.

    “I can’t believe it! He lied to me” You rested your back on the chair, arms falling to your sides as you looked taken aback “I mean, he’s a liar, okay!” Paris snorted at that, tilting her head as she looked at you, curious about what you were thinking “Hyunjin lied to me but he knew I would discover Han knew I had a family issue” You explained, your thoughts running fast around the place “So I think he lied to protect something important from me! It couldn’t be about Chan telling Han about it, because He knew one of them would talk about this sometime… It can only mean he knows it too and he was trying to hide it?” You grabbed your chin, pensive.

   “Well, I don’t know if Chan talked about it with him… He talked to me in private” Han pointed out “He could be mocking me just because he’s an asshole” You considered his statement, wondering if he would do something like this.

   Yeah, He would.

   “I don’t think so” Paris interjected “He’s not as bad as he seems! I don’t think he would mock Han behind his back like this without a reason… It’s not like it would upset you that much either” She looked at you, and you nodded “I mean, of course, you wouldn’t like him badmouthing your friend but he didn’t insist on it, right?”

   “Yeah, he just said and dropped it. It’s not like him… Usually, he likes to bug me a lot more” You agreed “So He was actually worried about me?” You gasped “What the hell?!”

   “I’m saying it!” Paris whined “He’s not as bad as he seems… I think you two would get along if you weren’t so settled on hating him” She shrugged “I think he knew you would feel awkward, so he just lied to cover it up” You nodded, flabbergasted.

   “I would never guess he had some decency in him” You admitted, making Paris laugh.

   “So now we like him?” Han spat, mad “He’s still an asshole! He has been teasing you for years and he’s a fuckboy! He’s just being nice because… Actually, why were you together?” He asked suspiciously. You rolled your eyes. Paris chuckled, resuming to her eating, her eyes attentive on both of you as she ate.

   “We have a project together” You clarified “The three of us” You pointed to Paris as well “Why are you so afraid I’m hanging out with him? Do you think I will fall for him and be crushed? It would be easier for me to crush him” You snorted but he remained serious.

   “That’s probably exactly what all the girls he dumped thought too” He picked up his fork, bringing food to his mouth, averting his eyes from yours “I just don’t want you to get hurt… There are tons of guys out there for you” He said shyly. Paris hummed, like she knew something, before looking at you mischievously.

   “He’s worrying too much” She assured “I think Hyunjin can be a fine guy, he just needs some love… I’m his psychologist, I would know” She joked, and you laughed along with her.

                                                                      ////

    Paris waited for you on the couch, her notebook on her lap.

    You sighed as you closed the door, expecting it to happen since you needed to do your project and could only discuss things with Paris at night, after work. She looked at you sympathetically, knowing that even though you suggested doing it like this, it would be hard on you. You sat down across her, cross-legged, dropping your bag to the floor and resting your elbows on your knees, your face burying into your hands as you let out a huff of air, tired.

   “So, let’s start this shit?” You asked, raising your head to meet her eyes.

   “So… I read your essay…” She began awkwardly, eyeing you worried “And I think we should begin from your… Hm…” You snorted, pitying the way she seemed concerned to hurt you. Paris had been worried about you since your outburst on Friday ─ when you explained to her a lot of your problems with your mother and your father─ and you couldn’t blame her. You weren’t the one to cry, so she was probably really concerned about it.

   “You can say it, Paris” You reassured her “I have abandonment issues, I know” You chuckled. She seemed relieved that you had said it, sighing as if you took away all the weight from her shoulders, adjusting her notebook on her lap, and nodding in agreement.

   “Yeah, and I think we should talk about this” She stated, looking in your eyes “So, tell me about your father” She asked, and although you found the situation amusing ─ Paris looking like a psychologist waiting for you to talk about your inner thoughts ─, you couldn’t smile when you spoke up.

   “Well, He left me alone with my mother because He didn’t know how to deal with her illness…” You shrugged “My mother is bipolar and she wasn’t diagnosed correctly in the beginning… They said to us that she was depressed, so she treated her depression, and my father took care of her when she was depressed” You tightened your lips, pausing for a moment before a bitter smile took over your features “Then she got normal again… And then she got maniac” You scoffed, hand trailed to your hair; fingers sweeping it with no need, trying to dissipate the distress “She wasn’t the same woman that he met and loved” You spat, remembering clearly the way he said those words to her.

   “So he couldn’t deal with her illness and abandoned you” Paris concluded, noting something down. You laughed humorlessly, head turning to the side for a moment, a habit you had when you were feeling overwhelmed.

   When you needed to look away from something that bothered you.

   “He abandoned us” You agreed bitterly “He left his ten years old daughter behind with a madwoman!” You raised your voice, anger filling you again before you felt your eyes stinging “He left me there to take care of her all by myself! I don’t want and I won’t forgive him!” Your hands turned into fists, your nails digging deep into your palms “He can’t just come back and say he loves me! He can’t expect me to love him back! He shouldn’t have left me behind!” Paris got silent, attentive as you got things out of your chest.

   “Would you prefer if he took you with him and left your mother all by herself?” She asked; no bad intentions on her voice but it still hurt you. You chewed your lip, averting your eyes, ashamed “Is that why you think you abandoned her now?” She asked, referring to your previous rant on Friday, and your eyes darted to hers.

   “It’s not that I would prefer he took me with him… I wanted… I wanted someone, okay? I wanted someone” You sighed “How did he think I felt then? She wasn’t the mother that I knew! She wasn’t loving, she was uncontrollable! She was mean, she was… She was a monster” You hid your face behind your hand, feeling the tears coming to your eyes “And then she got depressed again” You choked when you scoffed, holding down your tears as you could “Because he left us… Because she didn’t want to live without him…”

   “Did she try to…” Paris didn’t dare to ask, so you shook your head.

   “No, we got her on her pills again. This time the doctor knew for sure what she had, so it was a little bit better” You explained “Every time she got a little bit excited though, I thought she could be ill again at any time… We didn’t have enough to all the expenses, so we had to move out. I started to work as soon as I could, and it took all my time… School, work, and take care of her. That was all I had. That was all I was” Paris grimaced, pity written all over her face “Don’t” You said sharply.

   “I know how it is to not be able to do the things you want… It’s hard to be closed up in a world you don’t want to belong” She admitted “But in the end I got someone, and I think you do too” She smiled at you, reassuringly.

  “Don’t you dare say to me that my father is back and now he loves and cares for me! It’s not the same! Your mother always tried to protect you! He didn’t give a shit!” You slammed your fist against the couch, wrathful. Paris sighed, shaking her head.

   “That’s not what I meant… You have Chan and me now, Y/N” She reminded, a small smile on her face “You have Han and maybe even Hyunjin…” She risked, checking your reaction. You snorted, your fingers brushing your hair again before you rested your cheek on your hand, looking at her, discouraged.

   “What is it with you? Why do you want me to befriend him?” You felt gloomy, the anger fading away with the sudden change of the subject, the curiosity taking your best “You invited him to a party, you invited him to our lunch, and now you’re trying to make me think he can be our friend?” You tilted your head, widening your eyes in realization as you detached your cheeks from your palms, lifting your head “Do you like him?” You asked surprised.

   “What? No!” She looked at you as if you were dumb, grimacing and moving her head backward, getting a double-chin “I think you guys should talk, okay? I read both of your essays and I just think you guys would click! Both of you have a mom issue and abandonment problems” She clarified, widening her eyes as she realized what she had just said, “Don’t tell him I said it!” She pleaded quickly.

  “Oh? Does he have mom issues? What a surprise!” You sneered “That explains a lot, actually… So he’s just a needy guy who hides behind a fuckboy facade” You hummed “Disappointing but not surprising if you wanna know my opinion” You chuckled “He just keeps dumping girls around because he has some kind of abandonment issues… I can’t believe I was so curious about him for this” You rolled your eyes.

  “I’m not following you… Why are you so against him? ‘Cause I can’t believe you despise him so much because he’s needy and has some problems that you also have” She tightened her grip on her notebook, probably expecting you to say something mind blowing for her writing, expectant.

  “It’s just that he doesn’t take responsibility! He just hurt people around him and he doesn’t want to face the consequences!” Paris narrowed her eyes, tilting her head, pensive.

  “I’m sorry, could you say that again?” She moved her hand, pencil hovering over the notebook, eyes focused on you, apparently following an interesting trail of thoughts in her mind. You frowned, voicing your confusion, not quite getting what she wanted from you “What you said just now. Why you don’t like him” She repeated, eyes unwavering.

   “He’s irresponsible…” You repeated warily “He can’t stop hurting people around him, and he doesn’t want to face the kind of person that he is” Paris nodded, noting things down, reading those few words, again and again, going back a page and comparing something, humming in the end.

   “Now tell me again why you’re hating on yourself” She asked calmly.

   “I don’t hate myself” You countered right away.

   “Interesting... Because my notes disagree with you” She pointed out “You clearly blame yourself for leaving your mom to come to college” She tapped her pencil twice on the page, eyeing you. You nodded, seeing no point in denying something you had verbalized to her before “I know I’m not a psychologist but as a Music Major and as a future lyricist I noticed some things about your writing and your speech… Never once you wrote you abandoned your mom to come to college but you said it twice to me” She looked like she had just discovered something incredible.

  “So what?” You blurted, completely confused about what was so revealing about it.

  “You also presented in detail a lot of things about your father… How he abandoned you and obviously how you hate him because of this” Your eyes lit in understanding, letting out a scoff “See? You’re also in denial” She smirked, proud of herself.

  “Look, I blame myself because I don’t want to be like him… It doesn’t mean I hate myself, okay?” You spoke as if she was a kid “I never wrote that I abandoned her because I don’t like this word and—“ She interrupted you promptly.

  “Because you’re in denial” She added, still proud of herself.

  “I’m not in denial” You retorted, fuming “I just don’t want to be like him, so I didn’t phrase it like…” Paris eyed you knowingly and you shut your mouth, defeated “I’m in denial…” You realized, eyes widening. Great, that was all you needed! Not only you sucked but you also didn’t want to admit it.

  “I know you’ll get angry now… But listen to me, okay?” Paris licked her lips, eyes analyzing you briefly before she decided to speak up again “You also said your father was irresponsible for leaving a child behind to take care of another human being… And you kinda were hurt by him… And you may think he doesn’t acknowledge his mistakes and stuff like this…” You bit your lips, nodding.

  “I get it, I’m projecting my father on Hyunjin” You concluded, sighing, the conversation was making you worn out “I can’t believe it… All those years thinking he was a jerk and it turned out I’m the jerk after all” You whistle, taken aback by all your talking. You should have known it before… It was obvious you didn’t give a shit about his grades or the fact he seemed to have everything in the palm of his hands… Chan wasn’t exactly a humble boy and you were best friends with him.

   “If I may say it, I think you’re not only projecting your father on him but also your self-hatred” She confessed, shifting her weight in her chair and biting her lips, clearly uncomfortable “I mean, you’re in denial, right? You also didn’t acknowledge in your essay the consequences of your acts… You said you left your mom with your father, and I know you think you’re being like him by doing it but… That was it” You looked at her in wonder, thinking about what she was saying.

  “You mean I’m not facing the consequences of my acts” You decided to clarify, eyes narrowing “Just like my father” You added, scoffing. You never felt so disappointed in yourself, the shame washed over you, disgust filling every fiber of your body “I mean… I never thought I hated myself before… I work hard, I study hard, I do everything I can to be perfect and more than enough… I always thought it made me better than him” You sighed “Sometimes I thought it made me better than other people too” You confessed, embarrassed.

   “I don’t think you’re like him, Y/N… I think you have to stop overlooking what you really feel” She looked at you sympathetically, eyes filled with pity “You overwork yourself and I think you do this because you can’t stand being alone with your own mind” You shut your eyes, all the things she said sinking into your mind slowly.

   It hurt you.

  “You’re right… I hate myself” You agreed, voice faltering. You could feel the pang in your heart, the shattering feeling that consumed you “I hate that I’m turning into someone I always despised… What is my excuse for hating him now? He abandoned my mom and so did I, Paris” You felt the tears coming to your eyes, each broken piece you tried so much to ignore and hold together falling apart “He lived his life without a care and I’m living mine now… The first chance I got to run away… I just did it… And I keep telling myself that I left her with him, that I wouldn’t leave her alone… But what if he didn’t come back, Paris?” You let the tears roll freely, the last string that held you back snapped just like this.

   You couldn’t take it anymore.

  You curled yourself, fingers fisting your hair, pulling it as you rocked your body back and forth; heart aching on your chest like a thousand hooks were stinging and dragging it against your will. You were so determined to bring your focus back that you didn’t even hear her getting out of her chair, hand on your back startling you more than helping.

  She rubbed circles there, trying to calm you down. The gentle touch was just one of the things your mind had to face right now, wild thoughts spreading everywhere, making you unable to focus on just one of them. Your mind sounded like a riot, thousands of thoughts and voices trying to make their way to your brain ─ trying to make a point ─ and you couldn’t hear any of them, although they were all you could hear right now. Somehow her voice made its way to your brain, a gentle tone in contrast with all the chaos on your mind.

   The gentleness was strange.

   Unwelcomed.

   Like it didn’t belong there.

   Like you didn’t deserve it.

   “I’m a monster, Paris” You managed to say, voice cracking, fragile “I’m just like him! Just like him!” You spat, pulling your hair harder, trying to focus yourself back with the pain you felt on your scalp “I would abandon her just like him… I would leave her all by herself, Paris, all alone! And now he’s here… He’s here and he’s taking my place! He’s taking care of her and she’s forgetting me, Paris! She hates me! She thinks I’m the reason why they broke up!” You rocked your body faster, hyperventilating, your grasps for air didn’t seem enough to fill your lungs and for a moment here you felt like this was it, you were going to die.

   You couldn’t discern what you were saying, what was true and what wasn’t.

   You just voiced it.

   Everything your mind could bring up.

  You grasped for some air, desperate, one of your hands shot to your throat, groping it, trying to feel something you weren’t sure what was. Maybe you wanted to feel the air going through your throat. Maybe you wanted to make sure you were breathing; that you weren’t really suffocating, that you were going to make through it. Maybe you just wanted to feel your veins and arteries, the soft throbbing as a concrete sign that you were indeed alive, even though it felt like your heart was going to burst any second now.

   “Y/N, listen to me! Listen to me” Her tone was firm but as hard as you tried to lift your head to look at her, all you could concentrate was on your heart drumming inside your chest and your lungs burning inside your thorax. You breathed deeper, harder, faster, trying the best you could to get some air, feeling suffocated. Your thoughts weren’t behind; they tried to suffocate you, giving you no space to think, no time to breath, making you unable to focus on her voice.

    You were sure she was repeating it over and over again but you couldn’t hear it.

    Her voice was a soft scratch in the back of your mind.

    “She’s right… It was my fault! My fault!” You blurted, watching as your tears wetted your pants “I should have made him stay, Paris… I shouldn’t have let him go!” You choked on your own gasp, coughing while trying to catch your breath, your fingers leaving your throat to hold your face, nails digging into your cheek as you tried to recover some control of your mind, the pain being the only way you could think of.

   Then you suddenly did it.

   Your heart started to slow down, the loud bang on your head still present; your gasps started to be enough to fill your lungs, tears starting to dry on your eyes, throat hurting from your crying and grip, body trembling as you felt you could uncurl yourself, scalp hurting and head clouded.

   “Breathe” She said, frightened by your outburst; watching as you embraced yourself, small on the couch “Are you better? Do you want some water? Nevermind, you’ll drink water” She got up from the couch, getting a bottle on the minibar and coming back, handling it to you “Drink, you have to calm down… Oh my god, you startled me” She sighed, relieved it had ended “Y/N… You’re not a monster for following your dreams, you know that, right? You didn’t leave her behind, she’s with your father now” She reminded you.

   “What if she wasn’t?” You asked again, drinking the water eagerly “I know… I know it wasn’t my fault that he left… I’m… I mean, I was a child, I couldn’t make him stay” You sighed “I know that, It’s just… She thinks that I’m the one to blame and… Well, I took care of her all this time, Paris. I literally did everything I could, I left everything I could have behind just to take care of her… And she thinks I destroyed her life”

   “She doesn’t think that” She assured promptly “Y/N, she’s ill. She’s in a crisis. Right now, when you said you were the one at fault you didn’t mean it, right?” You shook your head, and she grabbed your shoulder, squeezing it “See? You weren’t in your best state of mind and you said things that you don’t believe… Whatever she’s saying now, she doesn’t mean it”

   “She… Well, she used to say that she loved me” You muttered, embarrassed “When she was okay… She said she loved me… She thanked me once” You didn’t know why you felt the urge to say it but it seemed right when Paris smiled at you, encouraging “It still doesn’t change the fact that I would leave her if I could” You sighed and her smile dropped.

  “You know you would do something about it… Chan could have helped you… You could bring her to live closer, live with her… You wouldn’t leave her behind because you’re not a monster, Y/N, you never were and you will never be” She reassured, and you smiled weakly at her “I never saw a monster helping someone as you did, okay? There’s no way you’re a monster”

   “I… Thank you, Paris” You said sincerely, looking at her, grateful you had her by your side, “I think I needed to hear that”

[rowyn-writes]

Cinnamon and Sugar

Chapter One

Warnings: Small mentions of depression, language, mentions of sex.

Characters: Jo Harvelle, Dean Winchester, Chuck, Jack Kline

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word count: 2k

You groaned as you flailed your hand around, trying to silence your annoying ass alarm clock. It was 4:30 in the morning, and to say you weren’t a morning person was an understatement.

You didn’t understand why you had to get up so early in the morning when the shop didn’t open until seven, but that was Chuck for you, always trying to ruin your peace. You didn’t mind your boss; when he stayed out of the way, that is.

You quickly got dressed, fed and watered you cat, giving him some belly rubs, before heading out the door. You didn’t live that far away from the shop, only a five minute drive, but you decided to walk there pretty much every morning. It was good exercise.

You jiggled the key in the lock before swinging the doors open. The smell of old books comforted you. It was always one of your favorite things. If you could bottle the smell and make a candle, then your life would be complete.

You began to set up for the day, grinding coffee beans, getting the display case ready, wiping down counters, the works. You knew the store didn’t get it’s rush hour until at least nine o’clock, so you had plenty of time to yourself. You connected your phone to the speakers in the store and began to play some of your favorite songs.

If you were being honest, you loved having the place to yourself. While you loved social interactions and talking to people, there was something about the tranquil environment of a coffee shop that just made you feel content.

You knew it was going to be busier than usual, since it was a Monday and everyone needed their morning coffee before going to work. Once you were finished setting up, you got out your backpack and began working on your homework. You were currently attending the University of Kansas, trying to get your Masters degree in chemistry.

You would have gone to a more prestigious if you could have afforded it. But UK was the best you were going to get. Plus, it wasn’t all that bad, as you had made some new friends there. Your best friend, Jo Harvelle, you had know since you were ten years old. She worked along side you in the coffee shop, and she should have been here ten minutes ago.

“Jesus Jo.” You muttered under your breath, looking at your phone. “Why is she always so damn late.” You went ahead and clocked in for her, because if Chuck saw that she was half an hour late, he was going to fire her. Again.

“I’m here! I’m here!” She exclaimed, rushing through the doors. “Sorry I’m late. I overslept.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just put on your apron and get to work. These coffee’s aren’t going to make themselves."

Jo gave you a mock salute and got to work. Like you thought, the line was pretty long. You and Jo rushed to get out orders and clean up as you went. Around 12, it finally died down.

"Thank god it won't be that busy tomorrow. Tuesday's one of our slower days." Jo huffed as she leaned against the counter.

"Okay, you never told me. . . Why in the hell were you so late today?!" You cuffed Jo, who glared at you.

"Well, if you must know, Y/n, I was having a sleepover." She winked.

"With who this time?" You rolled your eyes.

"I don't actually remember." She admitted. "But he was hot." You snorted at her comment. Since there was hardly anyone there, you decided to sit down on one of the plush arm chairs and start your homework. You had midterms in two weeks, and you were stressing majorly.

"Jeez, Y/n. You're no fun." Jo complained.

"I'll be more fun once midterms are over. Until then, you get Grumpy Y/n." You flipped to the next page of your textbook.

A bell sounded through the store, signaling that someone had just entered. "Oh my god." Jo whispered.

"What?" You asked, furrowing your eyebrows.

"That's the hot guy I slept with last night. And I kinda just left without telling him this morning." You felt your jaw drop. 

“You’re kidding!” You hissed. “Jo, you told him where you work?”

“No!” She defended herself. “No, I didn’t. Look, he’s nice and all, but I really don’t wanna talk to him. I kinda just wanted last night to be a one time thing and never see him again.”

“Fine. Go into the back and start cleaning up while I take his order.” Jo threw you a grateful look as she quickly fled into the kitchen.

You stood up and made your way over to the counter, and boy, was Jo right. The man was very handsome. The first thing you noticed was his emerald green eyes. It was one of his most beautiful features. Although he was gorgeous all around.

“Hi! Welcome to Chuck’s, what can I get for you today?” You gave him a friendly smile.

“Uh, just a large Americano, please.”

You narrowed your eyes at him slightly. “Let me guess, you’re used to crappy diner coffee, right?”

The man chuckled, scratching the side of his face. “Yeah. How’d you guess?”

“You seemed kind of hesitant in ordering, plus, Americano’s are disgusting.” You scrunched up your nose.

“Alright, what do you suggest then?”

“Hmm. . .” You looked the man up and down, trying to see what type of coffee would best suit him. “An Irish coffee. You seem like the type to drink whiskey, am I right?”

“Yeah.” He seemed skeptical. 

“Alright. One large Irish coffee, coming right up. What’s the name for that?”

“Dean.” You nodded as you wrote down his name on the cup. As you were brewing the coffee, you heard a loud crash coming from the kitchen. You quickly set aside what you were doing and ran to the back. 

“Jo?” You called. Your best friend looked at you sheepishly as there were scattered cups on the floor. “Jesus Christ woman, you almost gave me a heart attack.”

“Is everything okay back here?” Dean asked, rushing into see the two women. “I heard a crash and wanted to make sure everything was okay.”  His eyes widened in surprised as he looked at Jo. “Jo, hey.” He cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Oh, hey, uh-” Jo stumbled.

“Dean.” You whispered.

“Dean. Right, I knew that.”

“No, you didn’t.” Jo glared at you as she hit the back of your head.

“I’m just gonna go and wait for my coffee.” As soon as he was out of ear shot, you bursted out laughing. 

“Oh shut up!” 

You continued laughing as you went back to the counter. “I’m sorry for laughing.” You apologized in between breaths. “It’s just. . . Jo’s my best friend and she always looks for a chance to embarrass me, so whenever I get the chance to embarrass her, I take it.”

Dean cracked a smile. “Yeah, I’m like that with my brother.”

“I have a brother too.” You said, continuing to brew Dean’s coffee. “He’s five years older than me. Treats me like I’m a child.”

“It’s an older brother thing.” He grinned, leaning on the counter. “I act like I know more than him just because I’m older. It’s a complex.”

“Alright, here’s your Irish coffee.” You smiled, handing him the drink.

He took a small sip of the coffee, fully prepared to be hit with bitterness. He was pleasantly surprised to find that he liked the taste. It wasn’t too bitter or sweet, and the Irish Whiskey was a great bonus. “Wow, this is great.”

“Thanks, I’ve been trying out some new blends. I hope to convince my boss to add some new stuff to the board. But he’s a pain in my ass.” Dean chuckled.

“Well, I’ll definitely be back. This is much better than that crappy diner coffee.” Once Dean was gone, you called out to Jo, telling her that it was safe to come out.

“Well, that was awkward.” As Jo went to hit you again, you grabbed her wrist. “I love you, but I swear, the next time you hit me, I’ll hit you back.” Jo held her hands up in surrender, knowing full well that you would keep your promise.

Around three o’clock, you clocked out, finally going home for the day. You were exhausted and just wanted to get home to your cat, Storm. The days were getting shorter and the nights were getting cooler. It was becoming fall, the leaves were changing to a beautiful orange-red color, and every store you went inside smelled like pine cones. 

You unlocked the door to your apartment, setting down your keys and bag on the small table by the door. You clicked your tongue, calling out to your cat. He came instantly, wrapping his body around your ankle. “Hey, Storm. Did you have a good day?” Storm purred loudly as he continued to weave back and forth in between your legs.

You refilled Storms food bowl before going to sit down on the couch. You will still crunching for midterms, and it was awful, to say the least. You were hardly retaining anything that you were reading. Nothing seemed to be sticking.

You sighed as you threw your textbook aside. Instead of studying like you should have been, you decided to call your friend, Jack. You, Jack and Jo had been friends since you were kids, all going to the same elementary school. Granted, your parents had forced you to spend time together, but you grew to be close friends.

“Hey, Y/n!” Jack’s face popped up on the screen. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.” You smiled. “I feel like we haven’t talked in ages. Ever since you decided to go to college in North Carolina. Duke sucks, by the way.”

Jack laughed, his honey blond hair falling in his eyes. “Duke does not suck, I’ll have you know. It’s one of the most prestigious schools in the south.”

“Oh yeah, because the south is soooo great.” You teased.

“It is great, Y/n. Once you get past the bipolar weather, it’s nice. The food and drinks are amazing too.”

“Well, you better be getting your ass over here for Christmas. I haven’t seen you in months. Jo and I miss you a lot.”

“Speaking of Jo, how’s she doing? Does she still arrive ‘fashionably late’ to everything?”

“Duh.” You snorted. “Have you met Joanna Beth Harvelle?”

“Sadly.” He muttered. 

“Don’t act like you don’t love her. She may be an annoying bitch, but she’s our annoying bitch.” You both laughed, genuine smiles on your faces. It had been so long since you actually smiled. For months now, it felt like you had been drowning in the ocean, trying to break the surface, but never quite reaching it. You could hear other people around you talking, laughing, out living your life while you just stayed stuck.

You had so desperately wanted your senior year of college to be normal, to return to normal, at least. You wanted to enjoy everything that the last year of college had to offer. You wanted to get wasted at parties, hook up with hot guys, or girls, you didn’t really care. You just wanted to be happy, but things were so much more complicated than that.

“Okay, I really hate to leave so soon, but I have a date tonight.” Jack seemed proud of himself. He was awkward when it came to the female species, aside from you and Jo, he never really talked to other girls. He could never seem to say the right things to them, and it always turned out weird.

You pouted, sticking out your lip. “Aww, okay. Well, as soon as it’s over, call me. I want to know how it went.”

“Will do. Bye, Y/n. Love you.”

“Love you too.” And just like that, you were left alone with your thoughts again.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Tag List:

@akshi8278​ @laycblack  @lovememisha

If anyone else would liked to be tagged when the next chapter comes out, let me know!

[prorevenge]

Screw the department to force us to re-hire you? I don't think so.

Disclaimer: Although my part in this revenge was kinda small, it was the nail in the coffin for the douchebag. Also the story is kinda long for the sake of context. Also English is not my mother language and after reading some stories I might as well share even just for the sake of it.

I was hired in a smartphone manufacturing plant as a mechanical engineer, this was my first job as an engineer so I was kind of excited... until I met a technician, we'll call him Z-man. Z-man was a technician that was very angry that they "hired a bloody engineer instead of paying him more". I want to make clear that the more I knew him, I found out that not only he was not only very lazy, but he had only two tricks that kept him here: He had one of the few laptops with the files to program the assembly robots and knows how to speak English well. Addressing both points, he did not know how to program really, just to change some parameters.

Also, we are in Mexico, and there are different levels of English among technicians and engineers, and he obviously had the upper hand on most when speaking English, but he was downright terrible at writing in English and Spanish. Most people struggled with his fluidity of speaking English, even against other Engineers and educated people (he was deported from the US), he used it to intimidate other technicians who weren't fluent in English and behave like their supervisor (spoiler alert: he wasn't). He soon found out however that he couldn't do the same with me because not only I was as fluent as him (if having a more "mexicanized" accent), but also I knew how to write better than him (not joking, he made awful mistakes in any language).

He was manipulative and lazy, but I could not do much about him because I was not his supervisor, even if I was above his rank and in the same department. Also his direct supervisor was not allowed to fire him. There was even a legend about the previous manager firing him before the manager quit, "mysteriously" all the data from the robots disappeared and Z-man had a copy by "coincidence" and was re-hired by the new manager. Even the previous manager told the new one he was making a "big mistake".

Another thing I would like to add is that I'm not making justice on how much of a douche he was, he would call other departments to fix problems that were our own department issues, making enemies with these people.

Anyway, two years after dealing with this asshole, but not directly, his direct supervisor quit to move to another company, and by the same time he left, I put my two weeks notice for a better paying job. My direct manager said "hey WorldBlackened, could you please be the supervisor of both teams for the next two weeks?" I said "sure" and hauled ass. While my department was well behaved and needed little to no supervision (no joke, there would be times they even would pressure me because I taught them most technical stuff to make them independent), the department Z-man was in was in complete anarchy, but ironically with Z-man at the top, sending "weaklings" to do his job. I even told him he should leave the lab if he wasn't writing a report, complaining while complying (he spent too much time in there watching youtube and delegating his own tasks).

Weirdly enough, my boss was tired of him and told Z-man to get a job in two weeks. he panicked and went to the department he made enemies with to plead them to hire him, they told him to do a test and submit the CV. This is where we found out how much of a fraud he was: He made a CV with not only tons of grammar mistakes, but also he claimed he graduated from the University of Florida as an engineer, a HUGE lie that was easily testable. Also the test was leaked and in very simple engineering questions that probably middle schoolers could solve half of it, he failed with a 0.3%, not a 30%, A 0.3%!!!

The "enemy" department still told our own "yeah, we're going to hire him... don't worry about it". Little did we know it was a set up for Z-man. They exploited him to do any and every job, ironically even some that were related to our own department! He was exhausted, this was their way to exploit him to force him to quit.

Now this is a part where I cannot prove anything, but the situation was pretty obvious: One of our machines stopped working, I was the only on-site engineer left at this point and the technicians were struggling to make it work. Since most of their experience was with mechanical issues they were limited on what they could do. We saw from a window Z-man laughing at the technicians not being able to make the machine work. Desperate, the technicians asked for my help.

Little did they know, I was a mechatronics engineer, meaning I had some electronics background so I ask them to ask the electric engineering department for a multimeter for basic checks since they tested all of the mechanical issues and most of the electronics were not only sealed, but also the machine was not the property of the company, so only basic repairs and diagnostics could be done. That's where I found out a presence inductive sensor was not "working", I will not go into a lot of detail, but these are very basic with most of the signal handled by a basic bipolar junction transistor, of which there are two types: NPN and PNP. Today I cannot remember which type was which in this case, but for the sake of the story let's say the non-working machine had a PNP sensor, I asked them to check another machine that was working to see what label the sensor had and sure enough, it was a NPN sensor. We swapped it and it worked perfectly, just as we were testing it, Z-man walk by the window to see the machine working, his face was of panic and sadness. That's when I knew that's was his last ditch effort to return to the department where he reigned with fear ended. It seems that he was going to extort the department into rehire him once again by sabotaging the machine. Just in case, I did a crash course training for the technicians to do basic electronic diagnostics so they could handle the situation better.

That friday was my last day, two weeks after, I was contacted by a technician that I still am friends with after so many years:"hey! dude!!! Z-man resigned! He couldn't handle any more!""What? Did he had something wrong with him?!""Nah! he just found out what working really meant."

I can't feel pity for him. He tried to make a living hell of his colleagues and my technicians. I did my best not only to protect them but to make a stand against him and I would like to believe it worked.

It has been one of the highlights of my professional life, even if I cannot add it to my CV.

(source) story by (/u/WorldBlackened)

[vergilthelibrarian]

Dream of Me, pt.2.

To the anon who asked me to write a second part to this, here ya go! I’m might turn this into a series cause I’m actually genuinely interested in what I’m writing.

TW: mentions of self harm

Part.1

Yandere!PsychDoctor!SichengxGenderNetural!Reader

Walking into the day room, you looked around, eyes landing on Jisung who soon saw you.

His eyes lit up and he smiled and you smiled too, walking and taking a seat next to him.

“Hey.”

“Did you sleep well?” you asked him and he shrugged.

“A little. Not gonna lie, I was kinda scared.” he answered.

“I get it. I was too when I first went to a psych ward. I cried myself to sleep actually.

“Really?”

You nodded.

“Yeah.”

You two started talking, mostly getting to know each other.

“I’m in my first year of university. I’m majoring in dance.” he said proudly.

“That’s awesome! I got a degree in music and I was going for my masters before I moved back here.” you said.

“Why is that?” Jisung asked and you glanced away.

“I was kinda forced to move back here. Past demons catching up with me and all.” you told him.

“Is it because of your doctor? I saw him go into your room last night…” he whispered to you and your eyes widen for a bit before going back to normal.

“I… Jisung-”

“I’m sorry if I struck a nerve or-”

“It’s okay Jisung.” you said.

You sighed.

“My doctor is a childhood friend of mine so he knows me. I don’t really like talking about him though.” and he nodded.

“It’s cool. I don’t want to make you upset or uncomfortable or anything.”

You two looked up as you saw a young man walk into the room who you instantly recognized.

“Hey Taeyong.” you waved and the tired looking man stopped in his tracks and looked at you. He waved at you before walking to a chair and sitting down, crossing his legs and turning his attention to the TV.

Soon you saw your doctor walk in, a gentle smile on his face.

“Y/n. I see you’re out today and you’re making friends.” he stopped in front of you, glancing at Jisung for a bit while Jisung gave a small smile in return.

“Let’s go to your room for a bit and see how you’re doing?”

You nodded, getting up and walking off with the doctor to your room.

Once you got into your room, you sat down on your bed, facing Sicheng as he took a seat in the chair.

“How are you today?” he asked.

“Why do you keep asking me this? It’s not like as if you’re gonna let me leave this place anyway.” you said looking at him annoyed.

Sicheng chuckled.

“You’re right about that.” he said with a smirked.

Ever since finding out that Sicheng was your doctor, you knew that he was gonna somehow use his position and power to make it harder for you to leave despite being the cause for your stay at the psych ward in the first place.

You pulled at your fingers, your eyes soon on your lap.

You hated the air in the room.

It felt stuffy and awkward and you didn’t feel safe. You wanted to be back in the day room talking with Jisung.

“So… I see you’re talking with a new patient.” Sicheng said.

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous. You’re the one who told me yesterday to go out into the day room and talk to others.” and he nodded slowly.

“I did. But I still can’t help but just get a little jealous when I see you’re talking to other people besides me.” he admitted.

He leaned back into the chair, his eyes on you.

“You know, I’ve been talking with my team and I brought up you moving into a long term residential psychiatric program and-”

“What?” you looked up at the doctor, eyes wide.

“Aww, Y/n.” he cooed. “You’re sick. You’re a danger to yourself. If I let you go back outside, who knows what will happen to you.” he said.

“B-but… You can’t do that!” your voice raised as you looked at him in shock.

“I can and I will. You weren’t even taking your medication when you checked in.”

“That’s because you kept throwing them away. You worsened my sickness…”

Sicheng’s jaw clenched and he glanced away.

He looked back at you, his face soften as he said, “I’m only doing this so you realize that I’m the only who can really help you. No one cares for you as much as I do and if you’d just stop resisting me, it wouldn’t have to be like this.” he said before getting up.

“You can go back to the day room now. We’re done for today.” he walked to the door and left the room.

You got up from the bed, rubbing your arm as you walked to the door and left the room.

You went back to the day room only to see Taeyong talking to Jisung.

You couldn’t help but giggle at how Jisung looked a bit uncomfortable while Taeyong talked to him.

They soon noticed you though, their eyes landing on you and Taeyong motioned you to come closer.

You did, taking your seat next to Jisung.

“What did Sicheng say?” Taeyong asked, his eyes now on you.

You sighed.

“He’s thinking about putting me in the long term program.” you told him.

Taeyong frowned and Jisung eyes grew wide.

“What does he even gain from keeping you trapped here?” Taeyong wondered out loud, leaning back into his seat.

You shook your head.

“I don’t know.”

Taeyong himself was a long term resident of the psych hospital. He was schizoaffective and, from what he told you, his mind snapped when he lost his mother. You met Taeyong in your first year of high school, he only being one year higher than you. Everyone knew how much Taeyong loved his mother and when the news came out that she had cancer, he became a bit more sadder than his usual cheerful self but still, he kept his optimism. Everything was fine at one point, his mother had her last chemo treatment and things seemed to be turning up. But then it came back and this time it was worse and the doctors told his family that there was nothing they could do. When his mother passed away last year, his mental health started declining rapidly and with him already being bipolar now being paired with symptoms of schizophrenia, he genuinely felt as though he was losing his mind. Besides all of that, he didn’t tell you much as to what led up to him to being here but he did tell you that it was his relatives who brought him here and suggested to the nurses for him to stay here long term and with how unstable he was, his team decided that that was probably the best thing for him.

“This place is hell. I mean, besides the fact there’s nothing to do here, some of the doctors and nurses will just dope you up with so much drugs to the point were you become numb.” Taeyong said, which was true.

Some of the doctors and nurses just weren’t good people.

They didn’t see the patients as people who were genuinely sick and needed help.

Some of them saw you as lab rats to test new drugs on or as incurable.

One of the patients named Jennie, who only left her room for meal time, had severe BPD and was given so much medication by her doctor that she never really seemed all too there.

She would just sit and stare at the wall.

Never moving, her eyes blinking slowly.

It was sad.

Jisung frowned slightly.

“Isn’t that against the law though?” he asked and Taeyong rolled his eyes.

“The government doesn’t care about insane people. We’re seen as dangers to society just for existing and some of these “doctors” and “nurses” tend to keep those same ideas when they come into this line of work.” he crossed his arms. “And they don’t help us because we need it. They “help” us because we’re considered ticking time bombs that will kill someone the moment we have an episode.”

Jisung shook his head.

“But that’s not true.” he said and Taeyong sighed, looking at him with sad eyes.

“You’re right. It’s not true. But the rest of society still think it is and we, the ones with the illnesses, still suffer because of it.”

~~

Sicheng typed away on his computer when he heard a knock on his door.

“Come in.” he said, his eyes soon leaving the screen when he heard it open.

A man in a black three piece suit came in and closed the door.

He took a seat in one of the chairs that face the front of Sicheng’s desk and Sicheng smiled warmly at the man.

“How are you doing Yoonoh?” he asked and Yoonoh made a face as though he was in thought.

“Fine I guess.” he answered.

Sicheng saved his work and closed his laptop, giving his attention back to the man in front of him.

He waited patiently as the man tried to gather his thoughts.

“I don’t know how I’m doing. I don’t know how I’m feeling. Honestly, this life has made me so numb, so desensitized that I don’t even know if I could even have a genuinely healthy relationship with anyone. The fear of them dying a retaliation is just too high.”

Sicheng nodded, his eyes on the man who looked visibly distraught.

“It amazes me how my father was such a sweet man to me and my mother. I genuinely don’t know how he did it. This life makes it so hard to be sweet to others especially since it made me realize how much of a sadist I am.”

Sicheng listened to Yoonoh spill his guts out to him, about his fears, the nightmares he has of those that he killed getting their revenge.

And as Yoonoh talk, he cried.

He always cried during his sessions with Sicheng and Sicheng knew that Yoonoh thought he could only cry here with him because what would his men think of him crying over being raised in a life crime considering he’s the leader of his father’s mafia?

They would think he was a pussy.

After about 30 minutes passed, Yoonoh wiped his eyes, closing his mouth as he was done talking.

But before Sicheng could say anything, something came across Yoonoh’s mind and soon he found himself asking, “How’s Y/n doing? I’ve been thinking about them lately.” he said and Sicheng smiled.

“I’m taking care of them at the hospital. I’m actually planning to become their sole caregiver.”

Yoonoh nodded.

He didn’t want to tell Sicheng but he did felt bad for helping Sicheng force you to come back here, especially since it seemed like you had your entire future ahead of you. He also felt bad that Sicheng was using your mental illnesses against you. He only did things like that to his enemies so he didn’t understand why Sicheng was doing it to you… but love did come in different ways so he usually chalked it up to Sicheng just being in love.

Yoonoh didn’t really question why Sicheng did the things he did to you but he still couldn’t help but feel guilty at helping destroy your future and being stuck with a man who may be missing a few screws himself.

“How are you gonna become their sole caregiver?” he asked curiously.

“Their family already gave me the okay to care for them long term and their friends don’t even know that I was the one that was stalking them all those years ago. Also, no one is gonna question why they’re living with me suddenly since everyone knows we were close friends.”

Yoonoh knew he was right.

Everyone who was raised in this town knew how close you and Sicheng were before you went off to university.

What no one knew however was how your leaving made Sicheng lose it and while he was taking more unconventional routes in order to become a psychiatric, he hired Yoonoh to find out where you were since you deleted all of your old sns accounts before you left and didn’t really tell anyone the college you got accepted into. Once he found you though, Sicheng made it his mission to get you back, no matter how mad he had to drive you.

“Why are you asking about Y/n by the way?” Sicheng asked and Yoonoh ran a hand through his hair.

“I don’t know. Guilty conscious I guess.” he admitted and Sicheng nodded.

“I understand. But know that Y/n is only safe in my care. I will never let harm come to them.” he said and Yoonoh just nodded.

That might be true but if anyone was to ever harm you, Yoonoh thought, it’d be no one other than Sicheng himself.

~~

You eyes looked to your side, landing on Taeyong’s drawing.

You looked back at the blank paper in front of you, not knowing what to draw.

You decided to go to art therapy with Taeyong since you didn’t want to be in your room all day since you were still hallucinating and talking to both Jisung and Taeyong seemed to be helping a bit.

You’ve always heard a voice in your since you were child and only started visually hallucinating around the time you hit puberty.

The voice started off telling you do to random dangerous things, similar to how intrusive thoughts are but as you got older, the voice became more abusive and since your family didn’t believe you when you told them what was happening, you suffered throughout your entire youth because of that voice, the only people taking your words seriously being your friends.

The voice that would talk to you was a male’s voice. You couldn’t put a name to who it was though so you usually called it Him.

But when Sicheng started stalking you, a new voice appeared and the voice was that of Sicheng.

His voice would tell you in the mostly sickly sweet tone how no one loved you.

How no cared about you.

That your friends were fake and your family hated you.

And you heard his voice tell you this because he was already telling you this himself.

Leaving messages on your phone through voice and text, writing letters and leaving it in your mailbox, telling you how much no one loved you… besides him.

And it really did affected you.

You started distancing yourself from your college friends and by the time you graduated, your mental health was just as bad as it was when you were younger, if not, worse.

The only reason why his words affected you was because of how much you believed him.

Out of all of your friends, Sicheng was the only one who truly comforted you.

You were friends with Taeyong too but he was going through so much back then that you understood why he couldn’t really do much to help you.

But Sicheng…

Sicheng was always there for you and maybe it was selfish of you to just leave your hometown without a word and start a new life at a college in another state but you wanted to get away from your family so badly that you were fine with forgetting about your old friends and moving on.

Starting anew.

You sighed as you picked up a red color pencil and started drawing circles.

The circles began overlapping one another until it turned into a red mess.

“Okay guys. Now it’s time for us to go around and tell everyone what we drew and why.” Chittaphon, or Ten as what everyone called him, said as he turned down the music that was playing in the room. “Remember, you don’t have to say anything.” he smiled before picking up his drawing and starting first.

You liked Ten.

He was pretty chill and funny and would also let patients take crayons and paper to their room just to draw.

Once Ten was done explaining his drawing, he passed it down to one of the patients who began talking.

When it got to Taeyong though, he shook his head.

“I don’t feel saying anything today.” he said and then looked at you.

You picked up your drawing, looking at it, sighing.

“I didn’t really draw anything.” you started. “I just drew a bunch of circles overlapping into one another.” you turned the paper around for everyone to see. “I’ve just been hearing the voices and they keep talking over each other. I guess it could mean that? I don’t know, I’ve just been overthinking a lot about things.”

“What are they?” Ten asked and you looked at him.

“Just… just about the things that led me up to being here…” you answered him and Ten nodded.

“The beautiful thing about art is that it never truly has to be good. Art is a way to express emotions and thoughts that you can’t express in the verbal all too well. To make sense of the thoughts and troubles you have. To cope and understand the trauma you suffer from. If you drawing a bunch of circles made you come to that conclusion, then I say that you did draw something.” Ten said, a gentle smile on his lips.

You nodded.

“I guess you’re right.” you said, setting the paper down on the table. “I’m done.” you laughed awkwardly, looking at the older woman next to you who then began explaining what she drew.

When group ended, Taeyong told you to wait for him and went up to Ten and asked him for some more art supplies and Ten went and got him some crayons and paper.

Once he gave it to him, Taeyong thanked Ten and soon the both of you left the room.

“Let me put these in my room real quick.” Taeyong said and you two walked to his room, just talking about whatever.

When he got to his room, he went in, set his supplies on his dresser and walked out, the both of you heading to the day room.

As you entered, you saw Jisung whose eyes were red and puffy.

He did have talk therapy during yours and Taeyong’s art therapy group so you assumed that was the reason why he looked rather sad.

You went up to him, taking a seat next to him and smiling.

“Everything okay?” you asked him and Jisung looked up at you.

Taeyong took the opposite seat next to Jisung and began rubbing his back.

“Every time one of my alters take over, I don’t feel in control of my body. I’m just watching on autopilot while this stranger ruins everything.” he said. “I just hate that I can’t even remember what actually happens. I can’t recall the things I’ve done or said. I just feel so alone...” he sniffled

“Jisung, what you’re going through, there are others who go through it as well. You’re never really alone.” you said, trying your best to comfort him. “But I know what you mean. I feel the same way too.” Taeyong nodded. “Same.” he said. “When it comes to being sick mentally, it feels like as if no one understands your struggles. That you’re the only person in the world suffering but there are others who do know your struggles. Just because your friends and or family don’t get it, doesn’t mean you’re truly alone.” you told him, a soft smile on your face.

Jisung nodded slowly.

“I guess you’re right.” he said, shoulders slumped.

As you and Taeyong try to comfort Jisung, you saw someone come into the room out of the corner of your eye. Looking up, you saw a patient you’ve never seen before and thought it was a new patient.

His eyes met yours for a bit before looking away.

He looked rather tall in to you and his hair was black. His eyes look tired and sad and as he sat down, you wondered what exactly brought him here.

“It seems like everyday a new guy shows up yet I’m still stuck here.” Taeyong whispered bitterly causing you and Jisung to laugh, who seemed to be feeling a bit better.

~~

As you sat in your bed, you pulled at your hair.

The voices were loud.

Even though you were taking medication, they wouldn’t stop.

You began wondering if you were even given the actual medication you needed or sugar pills.

Knowing Sicheng, that wouldn’t really surprise you if that was the case.

You’ve been in the hospital for 3 weeks now and it seemed as though mentally, you were getting worse.

You looked to your side as the door squeaked open and Sicheng came in.

He walked to the bed and sat down on it, wiping your hair away from your face.

“How was your day?” he asked you and you looked away, pulling at your hair harder.

“No no no, don’t do that. That’s not a good habit.” he said gently pulling your hand away from your hair.

Sicheng was always so gentle with you… but his words always hurt you.

They cut you, hurting and bleeding far more than any self harm scar you’ve ever inflicted.

There was a part of you that still clung to Sicheng.

He was always there for you when no one else was and it made you so confused whenever you thought about that because Sicheng was the reason for your mind worsening in terms of health.

“My day was okay.” you answered timidly, not looking at the man who watched you with soft eyes.

At first, when he started harassing you, you felt terrified, angry that your old best friend was doing this, but ever since coming back home, you began feeling weird. Confused at the fact that Sicheng was still very much the warm and understand boy you grew up with… as long as you didn’t do anything that upset him that was but to Sicheng, you could never upset him.

Irritate him, yes.

But genuine anger towards you, no.

Sicheng chuckled, his hand soon caressing your cheek.

“That’s nice.” he said.

You hated the fact that this man practically had a say on whether or not you were “healthy” enough to leave because deep down you knew he was still sabotaging everything in order to make you stay here.

But a part of you would protest and say that Sicheng is just looking out for you because Sicheng’s voice, that was in your mind, was telling you that all he ever did was look out for you because that’s what the real Sicheng was telling you.

You bit your bottom lip as you felt soft plump lips, gently touch your cheek.

Sicheng would always kiss you everywhere on your face, except your lips.

His kisses was always hesitant and shy, just like him.

He leaned back, his eyes on you, smiling, a soft look on his face as he said, “Goodnight 亲爱的 (Qīn'ài de/Dear). Things will start getting better once you realize that all you need is me.” he lifted his hand up and began rubbing the top of your head. “Now get some rest.”

[slasherbastard]

Hey! I just found your blog recently, but I want to quickly say that I really love your writing!! You’re so talented and good at eliciting emotions! Your work has inspired me to get back into writing as well and you seem super nice! Keep doing what you’re doing!! ❤️ I’m not sure if matchups are still open, feel free to ignore this if they’re closed! But I hope you’re having a good day today! I’ll put my matchup info below:

I’m a gay trans man and I’m like 5’0” lmaoo I love playing guitar, listening to rock/metal music, and drawing! I’m not sure if it’s relevant but I have Bipolar Disorder and PTSD, and I like collecting bones/dead things hahaha! As for my appearance, I like wearing colorful/weird stuff! Like heart shaped glasses, shirts with weird images/text on them, rainbow socks… I’m kind of a fashion disaster lmao but it makes me happy! I have short, dark, curly hair and tan skin and I kind of have a baby face lol! For personality, I’m mostly quiet, but I get very passionate about certain things, especially the things that I like! I love joking around and being lighthearted! I’m pretty chill, but I’ve been told I’m a little scary when I’m angry hahaha! I’m super physically affectionate and I struggle with separation anxiety with people I really care about! I can be kind of protective too! And uhh yeah! I think that’s it!! I hope this isn’t excessive! Thank you so much in advance! Again, I hope you’re having a good day today! ❤️❤️

First of all I nearly cried reading the note, ahh thank you so much you’re so nice! Sorry this took forever to write-

I pair you with 

Chop Top Sawyer!

(gif credit: classichorrorblog)

The two of you are a real team. You’re more laid back and chill while Choptop is loud and crazy, you both go together perfectly. Seriously, even your interests match up nicely. You like collecting bones and dead things? One of the perks of dating a cannibal and living in the middle of rural texas is that there’s bound to be bones just lying around somewhere. Expect Chop Top to bring you human bones from his family’s previous victims, but if you’re not cool with collecting human bones then he’ll take you out to look for animal carcasses. You like jokes? So does Chop! He’s probably really into really bad jokes as well as dad jokes - also a few dirty ones if you’re okay with that. 

Chop Top has PTSD too so he understands what it’s like but he doesn’t understand what you’ve specifically gone through. If you’re comfortable speaking about it with him then he’s all ears. He himself doesn’t really like to talk about the war, but he might if he’s feeling a bit vulnerable. He isn’t very educated on bipolar disorder so if you’re ever feeling overwhelmed or having a depressive episode, Chop Top is one of those people who cries when he sees other people cry so if you’re ever upset you may have to end up comforting him, but he’ll also try to get your mind off of those negative thoughts and try to tell you the dumb jokes that you told him that made him nearly fall over laughing. When you’re feeling more hyper he will keep a closer eye on you just to make sure you don’t get yourself hurt - he may be a sadist but he’s also a gentleman, sort of. Also he’s perfectly fine with you being trans! He doesn’t think any less of you and won’t let anyone treat you badly or misgender you . He is very supportive but he will need you to educate him more on the topic.

Chop Top loves your style since it’s close to his but a little move evolved and he will probably take inspiration from you and try to steal your clothes and if none of them fit him he will steal your sunglasses. Also he doesn’t understand half of your shirts but he still thinks they’re funny - you definitely would’ve had to make a lot of them yourself since this is the 70s, and Chop Top would 100% want to match with you. Your wardrobe is full of bright colours and shitposts (do you like those shirts with oddly specific texts on them? Because that’s all I can think about). Imagine Drayton trying to figure out what the hell your shirts mean. “Never underestimate a man who was born in July and plays the guitar and is terrified of their aunt, and does everything they can to avoid her at family gatherings- What in the goddamn hell is that supposed to mean? What’dya mean there’s worse ones?” Think about it, you and Chop Top laughing your asses off as you both show Drayton your shared collection of weird shirts, congratulations - you’ve broken Drayton. 

Another thing about this rat is that he craves your affection. He’s a very clingy man and that mixed with your physical affection? Heaven to him. The two of you will just lay in bed cuddling for as long as you possibly can before Chop Top needs to get up and deal with his family. Chop Top definitely hates leaving you alone - probably even more than you hate being away from him - but at the end of the day when you guys are reunited, it’s just endless kissing and cuddling until you fall asleep. On the topic of affection, Chop Top loves nicknames - he also likes it when you call him Bobby.

[dreamingwithbts]

Demon (Boku No Hero) - Chapter 20

Warning: Swearing

It was the morning after the encounter with Stain and everyone was in the hospital, I sigh when I heard a notification, I pick up the phone and I see two messages, one from Katsuki and the other from Hawks, I click on the Katsuki message first.

Angry Pomeranian:

I heard Stain attacked Hosu. I hope your fucking ass weren’t there!

Me:

Sorry...I...can’t...hear you...bad connection...

Angry Pomeranian:

THIS IS A TEXT! I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!

Me:

Talk to you later! Bye!

Still laughing, imagining Katsuki angry face, I open Hawks message.

Cannibal Bird:

You are so in trouble, young lady! How can you go to a fight and didn’t even invite me or Tokoyami! But serious don’t do that again, that was stupid and dangerous. Will talk later.

I’m so proud of you my little baby bird, you’re just like me!

Me:

Hawks....I’m nothing like you, I’m way better! And I’m sorry I left without telling you, I hope you’re not in much trouble. I’ll see you later, cannibal bird.

I laugh even more seeing Hawks bipolar texts, he doesn’t even know how to react. “Excuse me? Do you know where my friends are?” I ask a nurse before she left my room. “Their in the next room, dear.” She says smiling. “Thank you!” I smile at her and wait for her to leave, so I can get up.

“Hey.” I say entering the boy’s hospital room. “Aka-chan!” Izuku says looking at me worried. “Aka.” Shoto nods at me. “Aka-san!” Lida says. “You guys look worse than me.” I say laughing seeing they have more bandage than me. “Are you okay Aka-chan?” Izuku asks worried while I sit on the free bed next to Lida. “I’m fine, just some scratches and some mental scars for life.” I say trying to joke. “Right...” Izuku whispers. “I just want to say sorry, for yesterday. Sorry Lida, and I’m sorry for your brother.” I say not looking at them. “What do you mean Ak....?” Lida was asking only to be interrupted by someone entering. “Oh, are you wounded kids awake? Ah, I see you here too, girl.” Izuku and Lida internship heroes enter the room. “Gran Torino.” Izuku says. “Manual-san.” Lida says sad. “Kid, I’ve got a lot of complaints for you.” Gran Torino says getting near Izuku. “Oh! S... Sorr...” Izuku tries to apologize. “But before that, you’ve got a visitor.” Gran Torino continues and all of us look at the door to see a huge human...dog. “Hosu’s chief of police, Kenji Tsuragamae.” Gran Torino finishes. “Shit.” I think while Lida, Shoto and I stand up. “Oh, you can just stay seated, woof.” The chief says to Izuku who was trying to get up. “Woof?” I whisper. “You must be the U.A. students who brought down the hero killer, right?” The chief asks us. “Yes.” Shoto answers. “Regarding the hero killer we arrested...” Chief continues. “He had some serious injuries, with burns and broken bones, and is receiving treatment under strict guard, woof.” He says. “So his still alive.” I think. “Since you are U.A. students, I’m sure you already know that when superpowers were still becoming the norm, the police attached high importance to leadership and standards, and made sure Quirks were not used as weapons.” The chief says. “We are so fucked!” I think scared. “And then, the profession of “hero” emerged to fill that gap, woof.” Chief says then starts explaining stuff while I’m cursing inside my head knowing we were going to be expelled and put to prison then I pay attention again when Shoto explodes. “Isn’t it a hero’s job to save people?” Shoto screams. “That is why you are not a full-fledged hero yet. Goodness, what are you being taught by U.A. and Endeavor, woof?” The chief of police responds to him. “You dog.” Shoto says angry, going towards him. “Go Shoto!” I say making Izuku and Gran Torino look at me, one scared and the other thinking while Lida tries stopping Shoto then Gran Torino stops him. “Hang on a minute. Hear him out until the end.” He says. “That was the official opinion of the police, and the punishment and such would only happen if this were all made public, woof.” The chief says. “So, what does that mean exactly?” I ask. “If it is not public, the burn scars would support Endeavor being the hero who saved the day, and it would end there, woof. Thankfully, there were very few witnesses. This would mean no one would know about your good judgment or achievements. What do you prefer, be recognized and receive punishment or Endea...” Chief says and this time I explode, and I stay in front of Shoto screaming. “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME! No way in hell I’m going to let that mother fucking Endeavor take our credits! Choose other! I prefer get my punis....” I was silence by a hand on my mouth and then being force on a bed where Izuku looked me, so I was silence and trapped. “Please continue.” Izuku says nervous. “Very well. Personally, I don’t want to be the one to find fault with promising young ones because of one big mistake, woof.” The chief says giving us thumbs up. “Either way, we will need to take responsibility for being negligent in our supervisory duties.” Manual says then everyone apologizes. “I’m not apologizing anything! We did...” I say now up then two hand force me to bow. “Please Aka-chan...” Izuku whispers, but I just stay silence then the chief of police bows to us. “I can say thank you.”

Later that day, I was discharged from the hospital first than the others, so after being yelled and praised by Hawks our attention went to the news. “Endeavor finally catch the hero killer...” The reporter says. “FUCK ENDEAVOR MOTHERFUCKER IT WASN’T HIM DAMMIT! WHY HIM?” I scream angry. “What do you have against Endeavor?! His amazing!” Hawks screams at me in disbelief. “Who likes an asshole like him, who doesn’t know how to raise his kids!” I scream at Hawks while he screams back facts about how great Endeavor is. “Why am I here?” Tokoyami says sighing tired.

The next day I woke up by my phone ringing, it was Dad calling me. “My daughter! Gran Torino called me.” Dad says the moment I pick up. “Shit...” I whisper. “Language! Did you see him? Did he...?” Dad asks. “Yes...he knows...” I say knowing immediately want he wanted to know. “I see...how are you?” He asks. “Better than I thought I would be.” I answer him honestly. “Okay.” He says. “I want to talk to him.” I suddenly say, but I knew Dad wasn’t surprised. “We’ll talk after the internships, and I’ll see what I can do.” He says. “Thanks Dad.” I say. “Your welcome, my daughter. And thank you for helping Young Midoriya.” He says. “Of course Dad.” I say and we both say goodbye.

Five days had passed since our internships started, Hawks have been training me and Tokoyami better than I thought, even if he teases us and make us his slaves. Today, the three of us were patrolling the streets, Hawks sent Tokoyami to one direction while he sent me to other, and he would switch time to time with us, now he was with me. “How about some chicken, booby bird?” He asks me, flashing his red wings. “First, stop with the name, second you ate chicken like an hour ago!” I say to him. “That’s too long!” He complains, and I was going to answer him before I heard a familiar voice. “Katsuki?” I ask, looking at the source of the voice. “Oh? That’s Best Jeaninst. HEY!” Hawks screams waving making the two look at us. “Hawks.” Best Jeanist says approaching us. “Hey Kat....AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!” I start laughing hard when I see Katsuki hair. “SHUT UP YOUR DEMON!” Katsuki yells angry. “What happen to your hair? Oh my god, I need to take a picture for your mom!” I say laughing too much. “LIKE HELL YOU WILL BITCH!” Katsuki yells only for Best Jeanist to punch him in his head. “Is that how you treat your girlfriend?” Best Jeanist says making us both blush while Hawks giggles at us. “SHE’S/I’M NOT HIS/MY GIRLFRIEND!” We both scream. “Fuck this shit. Let’s go Hawks!” I say, blushing hard. “Alright, alright, Miss Tomato.” Hawks says laughing. “Bye Katsuki! Best Jeanist.” I say waving them goodbye wanting to leave them as quickly ad I could.

“If that’s how you’re going to treat the girl you like, I’m really sad for her.” Best Jeanist says to Katsuki. “Shut up!” Katsuki whispers.

Then with a blink of an eye, the days of internship are over, so Tokoyami and I are in front of a very sad Hawks. “I’m going to miss you guys so much!” He says with fake tears. “We’re going to miss you too, Hawks.” I say smiling to the bird man. “Come here Boob Bird, Face Bird!” Hawks says to us, hugging us both very tight. “Hawks!” I say feeling squeezed. “Hawks...” I heard Tokoyami whisper. “LET GO, BIRD MAN!” Dark Shadow yells coming out of Tokoyami. “Fine, fine! Goodbye guys and stay out of trouble!” Hawks says letting us go.

School day came quickly and right now I was in the middle of Kirishima and Sero, us dying of laugh seeing Katsuki still with the weird hair. “AHAHAHAHAHAHA. It’s the second time I see, but I still can’t stop laughing!” I say happy while Katsuki glares at us very angry. “Seriously?! Seriously, Bakugo?!” Both guys say dying of laugh. “Stop laughing! My hair’s gotten used to it, so it won’t go back even after I wash it!” Katsuki says, trembling in anger. “Hey, stop laughing! I’ll kill you!” Katsuki continues while we can’t stop laughing. “I’d like to see you try, Side-Part Boy!” Sero says making me have to support on Kirishima laughing too hard. “What did you say?!” Bakugo screams, and suddenly we heard a puff and I look at him. “Oh my god, it’s back! That was more hilarious, ahahahahaha!” I say making the boy still laugh. “There, there, Katsuki. It’s back, don’t worry about it that much.” I say petting his now normal hair. “Shut up.” He whispesr calmly making me shock but then smile at him.

We smile at each other until someone talked to me. “...were you three, right? And you Aka-san?” Kaminari says. “Hm?” I ask confused. “Oh yeah! The hero killer!” Sero says making me tense up, then I feel a hand on my hand and with the corner of my eyes, I see that it’s Katsuki who is glaring at Sero. “I’m glad you guys made it out alive! Seriously.” Kirishima says, then everyone started talking about it and I started trembling, for fear, sadness or angry, I didn’t know. “Come on, let’s sit. I’m going to tell you everything that Best Jeanist did to me.” Katsuki says ignoring everyone, making me sit on my place while he sits on his and starts talking making me stop listening to the others while I smile at him. “Thank you, Katsuki.” I think watching his face while he talks.

Everyone was in front of All Might, everyone in their hero costumes, and I could feel someone’s eyes on me. “If you take a picture it will last longer.” I say flirting to Katsuki. “Why if I have the real thing in front o me?” He flirts back, smirking. “Kacchan...and Aka-chan...are flirting...oh my god...” Izuku mumbles quietly while Ochaco giggles beside him. “Anyway, we’ll start now. Right. It’s hero basic training! Long time no see, boys and girls! How have you been? We’ll have some fun with a rescue training race today!” All Might says. “If we are doing rescue training, then shouldn’t we do it at USJ?” Lida asks. “That place is for training for disasters. Do you remember what I said? That’s right! I said race!” All Might responds to him. “This is Field Gamma! A dense are filled with factories laid out like an intricate labyrinth. You’ll break up into three groups of five-person groups and one of six-person groups, and go through the training one group at a time It’s a race to see who will rescue me first!” All Might explains too excited. “Of course, you’ll have to keep damage to the building to a minimum.” All Might says pointing at Katsuki making me laugh. “Don’t point at me!” Katsuki says embarrassed then we started, the first group went, and Sero won, then others groups went and it was finally my group turn. “Good luck everyone.” I say to them smirking. “Aka is going to win.” Katsuki says to the others who were watching. “I think that too.” Izuku says. “Who said you could agree with me, DEKU?!” Katsuki screams. “Ready? Go!” All Might screams, then everyone starts running while I stay in my place. “What the hell is she doing?” Katsuki asks confused then suddenly I disappear. “I win!” I say touching All Might. “.......huh?” All Might says confused. “WHAT?!” Everyone screams. “Young Aka how did you arrive so fast?” All Might asks me shocked. “ I teleported here.” I say smiling while my group sighs for losing. “That’s my girl.” Katsuki thinks smiling.

Note:Hope you like it! New chapter every Friday!

Tag List: @holaaaf @clickbait-official

[rochey1010]

I must be the only one who liked these clips. I think many of you put eliott on a pedastal. He's this dashing prince that can't be flawed or dark. Thinking like that does a great disservice to his character.

I have a mental illness. Let me tell you why i relate to characters like Eliott and Lola. Because their thinking in those clips, and in life is 100% true. I made a post early on in the season of Eliott hitting bottom. And it's coming true. Of words said that would end up foreshadowing events to come. And they're coming true.

Mentally ill people's thinking are basically a barrage of negative thoughts that permeates the mind and sometimes drown out rationality and logic. Things like self loathing, toxicity, inadequacy, wrong, defective, freak.

And what helps those words stick is others through ignorance, hate or judgement reinforcing them. Eliott's own love Lucas did it in S3. Remember guys words hurt, sterotypes and predjudices hurt. How many times has Eliott stood around people with judging eyes that Eliott can't think for himself or is about to go mental. Hell the freakin fans are guilty of it. And how many people look at Lola and think she's gonna fall off the wagon and is a lost cause. You have to understand that it's not just Eliott and Lola's thinking. It's society and their thinking and how they treat others.

There was a time when a mental illness was a dirty, shameful secret and people were thrown in institutions to rot. That they were considered a waste of humanity and beyond help. Even today there are stigmas. Do you remember how we acted when Fifi died. Oh no eliott's gonna break and spiral. Waiting for eliott to slip. Even when other fans who understood bipolar posted that it's harmful to keep that kind of thinking. Not everthing a person does is because of their mental illness, that eliott is strong and can cope with upsets etc. There you freakin go. Now ask yourself why eliott feels that way when we clearly do about him.

And then lets hammer it home with lola knowing about the manic episode on the barge. Eliott's worst night, a night of shame and chaos for him. And it's spread around like it's the best story ever. Like it's some gossip. And if Lola heard it. It means the crew talked about it. Hey maybe some even laughed at how funny it was. And now ask yourself why people care and relate to Eliott. 😭

That conversation at the table with lola and eliott is so godamn relatable. Lola is bottom and hurting. She's hurting herself with vices but she knows how to hurt others with the weapon of words. She's very adept at it. And she has being doing it with Eliott. Picking at his fears and insecurities and not because she's evil but because it's lonely being rock bottom and you want someone to hurt with you.

I said this about Eliott. The root of his bipolar is believing he's a fuck up and too much. This is very much confirmed. It's why he hides, omitts, and runs, because he believes if those he loves know the true him. They'll write him off as he's everything his negative thoughts tell him he is.

I said he was the darkest Even. And i knew he'd gone off the rails in the past and done self destructive shit. It does not matter how much Eliott loves Lucas. His mental illness does not care. It screams as loud as possible and twists his thinking. His fears and insecurities are dependent on 2 things:

Control

Inadequecy

You have to understand that a mentally ill mind doesn't work the same. These 2 Lola and Eliott. A depressive and a bipolar have no control over their moods and emotions, struggle with power and agency and fear it being taken from them. That's why Eliott didn't pull rank on Lola and turn into her dad. Because he tried to take her home first and it didn't work. She made a scene and pulled away. So he asked her what she needed and she said a friend and someone to drink with. You don't tell Lola what to do. Because when you do it goes badly. And how does Eliott know that? Because telling Eliott what to do is something he hates and goes badly.

So yeah i liked seeing flawed Eliott who messes up because he's young and struggles. Life isn't a cake walk for him. And Tiff's friend took the video which means it's getting posted. And Eliott will have to address his issues once and for all. And Lola will have to come to terms with her dragging a friend who has been nothing but supportive and sweet to her. This is going to hit Lola hard at what she did to Eliott. I Love Lola but she was acting toxic in this clip and had an agenda. She knew what her words were as we've seen them several times over the season. She basically stuck the knife into Eliott and preyed on his insecurities and fears. And like i said, this is just objective. I'm not blaming Lola and don't want others to either. As both Eliott and Lola are young living daily with mental illnesses.

So based on my post. Eliott will hit bottom and that crying BTS is about to happen. And it looks like Lucas and Eliott are gonna address their issues. And Lola now has video evidence of her with her top off and Eliott being punched trying to help her. It's now self reflection time for Lola. I think she's gonna hate herself when she sees the state of Eliott.