#idk i hate when my parents prod at me about school because every time they ask it's because they want me to 'have a good future'

[ravenousnightwind]

My Story: Mental Illness (mondo long)

I’m going to share some things with you all that some of you may be aware of already. I’ve talked about it before, but I don’t know. I need some form of release. It’s really personal and probably going to be super long. So click below if you want to read it all. A lot of this doesn’t have much to do with paganism, but..it is part of the reason behind why I became a pagan. The sheer amount of self acceptance and reliance, along with other various things within norse paganism especially, has allowed me to be a better person. Just be aware that what you are about to read may be traumatic for some. This is my story, my thoughts, and opinions about mental health. In no way should it reflect everyone as this is simply my way of dealing with it.

I suffer from mental illness, social and general anxiety, and depression. From a very young age I was asked why I had problems with school, or why I didn’t want to play with other kids. Sometimes people tried to force me to do it. In fourth grade, my teacher hated me because I lied about things and stole some stuff. (I don’t feel good about that time.) It was when a lot of my troubles started, because I was literally carried to school by my parents and the principle. After asking me why I didn’t want to go to school, and me telling them I didn’t know, but feeling sad, they grabbed me, forced me to go. I sat on the bench that day. But for the rest of that whole year, the teacher treated me like shit and even threatened my mom for harassment when she called her at home just to tell her I took stuff. I was sent to therapy around this time to figure out why I felt the way I felt. They couldn’t figure it out, and my parents got frustrated with the faculty and the counselor I was seeing, so I didn’t go back. A lot of the emotions I felt went dormant for a while. The sheer amount of pain and fear I felt during that time...I can’t describe it.

Fast-forward it’s eighth grade one of the teachers I had literally put their hands on me and attempted to force me to play with other kids, in public, at a park. At one point, they even sent the other kids out of the room to deal with me and try to force me to get up from a desk, simply because I had my head down when I was supposed to be working (Even though I didn’t have any work to do.) I got so angry that I threw the desk at her, because she kept hitting me on the arm and poking and prodding me. Asking me WHY and screaming in my ear. I got sent home that day for the desk and she made up some stuff in the referral. The next few years again, it seemed like I didn’t have emotions and they got worse but also disappeared to some degree.

Fast-forward, it’s ninth or tenth grade. I was asked if I would hurt anyone in the school, because for some reason, the teachers were freaked out about me. They said, according to my mom “idk he just had a glaze over his eyes”. I told them that I would try to defend myself against anyone who tried to hurt me. So they left, then the principle came. He took me to his office and I sat there, then other people came, I went to the deans office. There was a security guard or some kind of cop there, he worked at the school. They all told me I had to get in the ambulance or they’d take me to the hospital in handcuffs. That’s when I was sent to the mental ward in the hospital for a while. My parents could of got me out of it, but they thought it was good for me. But none of the kids I met there seemed crazy or unusual. If anything, they seemed like normal people. Or normal in my perspective. Some of them were weird, but all and all it wasn’t an unpleasant experience, though I still wanted to go home.

For years I blamed them for a good part of my suffering. But it wasn’t like I didn’t have blame myself. I said things that prompted them to take action against me. Like seeing things, because I was into magic and the occult at this time in my life. They were thinking that I literally saw dragons flying around. I quickly learned that saying things like that would cause people to think that you were crazy and in need of psychological help. After a lot of that, I was in therapy for years. I was drugged with pills, anti-psychotics, anti-depressants, etc. Because they thought I was a danger to myself and others. Eventually my mom grew concerned because my mood really changed after that and I got really fat. She knew It was making me unhappy and took me off of them. Though the effects of what the drugs did to me still remain. The often unfeeling of anything. In fact, it is through this method of treatment that I felt suicidal. It’s still the very reason why I won’t take pills regarding anti-depressants or anxiety. It literally blocks my ability to feel and takes away joy, happiness, and sadness all at once. I didn’t want to live a life feeling nothing, it felt meaningless.

One day I was so upset, that I went to the counselors office hoping I could have a moment of reprieve. I was literally about to burst in tears for reasons I still don’t know. When I told them I didn’t know why I was upset, they said I had to leave and they couldn’t help me. That sent me over the edge, and I started crying more and the threatened to tell the dean. Well he came down there and at this point I was crying so hard that I couldn’t even see. He yelled and screamed at me telling me it was bullshit, then grabbed ahold of me. This sent me into a protective state of mind. He tried to put me in a headlock when I fought him. All he could do was slide me across the floor by pushing my palms against his because he couldn’t get me down. I was sent home that day too, with threats about going back to the psch-ward.

In my JR year of high school, I dropped out because there was this guy I shared lunch with. I bought lunch for him because I liked him, and well, it didn’t go well when he found out why I was doing it. He called me faggot in front of the entire cafeteria and told me: “get your gay ass up from this table!” I refused, and him and his friends got up. I stood up to a bully, for the first time in my life, even though I was afraid. Then it happened again in gym class, but this time I ignored his homophobic slurs of how I didn’t deserve to live and how no one wanted me around. I got angry, clinched my fist, and walked away. I wasn’t going to fall into that drama or make him see that I what he was saying was affecting me.

When Christmas break came, I had a debate with myself, if I was really going back to school or not. I decided it was my life, no one was going to control it for me or make my choices. My parents demanded that I go back, then I told them why it was never going to happen, and that there was nothing they could do to convince me otherwise. I resisted every attempt they put at me. They didn’t want to see me suffer in the end, so they said that if I didn’t go back, I had to continue my schooling through a home-school program.

So, we went back to the school and discussed it. Then, the counselor said the most...demeaning thing a person like that could say. “You won’t be able to do homeschooling, that’s to hard for you, then you’ll have to come back here and it will be all for nothing.” I had been in special education for the majority of my life you see, and working at a “normal” pace wasn’t possible. I learned at a very slow pace. But I did the work anyway, with difficulty. However, depression and other such things began to set in again. My grandma was a great help to me, actually kind of doing the work for me. She felt bad..because she saw the pain I was in and wanted to make sure that I was able to get my diploma. I did, but if I’m being honest, I was way more concerned with how I was feeling than a piece of paper.

My life after that point took a turn. I spent the majority of my time in my room, alone, wishing I had someone to share my pain with. I had no friends for most of my life. I never went anywhere or did anything. In a town of nothing like Decatur Illinois, there’s not much to do if anything. Most people you encounter do drugs or other stupid shit. It wasn’t worth getting in trouble with the law just to have friends, because that’s what most other kids did at my age. Most of my life and interactions with people were spent online. It wasn’t enough however, to keep the depression at bay.

I wanted to rid myself of this curse, this sadness. I couldn’t work out why I was so upset. I didn’t see reason, I didn’t understand it. From that young age, even as young as kindergarten I remember I just did not feel well. At every turn in my life, people hurt me, or said I just had to be a man, or suck it up, blow it off. Just ignore the pain! I couldn’t just ignore it, it was there, either consciously or unconsciously, and I was about to make one of the biggest mistakes of my life.

I started trying to figure out how to perform magic on myself, so that I would never have to feel sad again. People said just think good thoughts, I tried, I tried everything. People said happiness was a state of mind and all you had to do was think positive. None of it worked! I figured if people had this weird happiness then I had to have it too! So I used magic and the occult to push my feelings back. I literally removed them, without pills and medical treatment. I became nothing. Just like before, I became nothing and I did it to myself this time. I locked it all away in a bottle, or inside of myself in my mental chambers.

It was there that it developed its own personality and its own way of working through my problems. Often appearing in dreams or visions as a blue furred half transformed werewolf. I struggled with this for years and years, and even today, it’s hard not to struggle with it. Because the ill effects that it had upon me made me stop feeling feelings consciously. Instead, I would feel nothing, but I knew I was sad. I didn’t cry anymore but I was still traumatized by everything that happened to me. When sadness did come into my conscious mind, I couldn’t deal with it. I’d sit or lay there crying for hours or wishing I knew the reason for my pain, wishing I could get rid of it. All of this formed a sense of self hatred inside of me that is most likely still there. 

Then one day, when I was reading and contemplating myself. I “heard a voice”, but inside my head, not through physical hearing. It told me “if you feel it, it will go away.” So I did, I tried to feel what I felt, I tried to face it. I tried for years...to release the wolf I had caged inside me. From ages 19 through 29 I struggled with this. Having phases on and off with it, only to discover I was still doing the things from before. Or thinking that I had reached the top and overcame the depression. I didn’t. It was still there and I didn’t know why! 

A few years ago, I finally figured it out. In the beginning, I had this. That was always there. I was predisposed to these problems in the beginning and I was punished for it. People didn’t know how to handle me, I didn’t even know how to handle myself! So they tried, and I tried...to get rid of it. But you can’t get rid of what is already part of you. That sadness, it is part of who I am, even if I don’t want it to be. I didn’t have depression because of some kind of event. I had it because I was born with it! These other events just made it become inflamed and worse than what it was. Part of it is my fault, but part of it is also people just being shitty towards me. I know there was wrongs I had done, people I affected... I’m sorry! I’m sorry and I wish I could change it all now! But I can’t..I have to move forward and make better choices. 

Except the way that things were, it didn’t change. I am much better at recognizing when I’m having a problem, but it all has affected me in a very extreme way now. I have severe social and general anxiety. I have depression, and there are days I can’t even get up or do normal chores. Everything is hard and there’s not very many enjoyable things. I can’t even play video games or read sometimes. That’s just how intense the emotion is. Take pills, that’s a no go because I don’t want to feel nothing. 

So what do I do? How do I cope with it? I go in phases. Some days I listen to music to calm me, some days I play games, some days I read. Ultimately though, I deal with what I’m feeling no matter what. I don’t try to ignore it, I just use these things as tools to help me cope. Because while I’m reading or playing a game, I am also thinking about why I feel the way I feel. There are days however, where I can’t do anything at all. All I can do is sit there. Don’t even get me started on the abandonment issues I have because of all of this. 

So then...what is the point of telling you all this? My point is, you can’t run away from yourself. As much as people love to say “it does get better” I’m sorry, but in my experience, it only gets better for a little while. It isn’t totally bad and horrible, but it doesn’t allow me to live a normal life sort to speak. I don’t go to work, I don’t hang out with people, because every time I am in a large crowd, I get really anxious, so it’s hard for me to walk out on the street or hang with some friends. Because anything in over exposure I have to deal with after I’m alone, by myself. You know after I hangout with people, I have to come home and be anxious for hours or days? I can’t deal with anything else in that time. 

So what’s the point in living then? People have hope it will be better one day, how the fuck can I deal with going through phases of happiness and then sadness all the time? I have thanks I can feel anything at all. When I was on meds, or when I did magic on myself, I wished every day, just feel something, just feel sad, just feel happy. Because I was on the verge of killing myself, coming up with a plan. I wanted to die...and that was a horrible feeling. Especially when my parents found out I was planning to do something. 

I give thanks I can experience this world and enjoy it, I give thanks that I can feel anything at all, because for so long....I couldn’t feel anything.. Feeling sad, depressed, or happy, is so good. I have a reason to live because I can feel, I can want things and desire things when I feel things. I can yearn for things! You don’t have any of that when you’re apathetic. So how do I deal with this emotion when it consumes me? I take it one day at a time, and each time I feel sad, I ask myself why I feel sad. Especially after my dad dying, I took a turn for the worse. I had to go through shit and relearn it to get back to where I was. After three years and now being 32, I finally feel like I have some form of control over myself again.

So, my advice to you and everyone dealing with mental illness is simply this:

Feel, and deal with your shit. Try to work out why you feel the way you do. If you can’t handle it, find someone you trust and talk to them about it if you can. Talk to me if you can’t find anyone. Do something productive or try to, when you feel down or upset. Ultimately though, try to deal with it in your own way. Just make sure you don’t totally ignore those feelings. In my experience, by doing that, I suffered a lot more by ignoring it than I did by feeling it. I also learned to understand why I felt the way I did and how everything contributes to those feelings. 

I got lucky, because I found really nice and understanding people to talk to..and when you don’t have a support system, you can really want to hurt yourself or feel like life is meaningless even when you do feel shit. Try to find your own meaning in life, enjoy what you have first before wanting more. Try to appreciate this world and ask yourself if what you want is truly realistic or not. B

What ever happens, know you are not alone. We may all have different situations and ways of dealing with things, but know that there are others just like you who feel anxious or sad. This pain you feel is not just you, even if you feel like it’s going on forever. Know, someone else is suffering with you, me, and many others. Be Proud of Who You Are. No matter if you’re LGBT+ or not! Be who you are, not who others want you to be! Forge your own path in life! Love Yourself!

[mandelene]

Tag Game

Answer 15 questions and tag 15 mutuals

Thank you to @feyna-v for tagging me!

1. Are you named after someone? No, my mom picked my name just because she liked it and it was American/English and not Polish (she didn’t want to give me a Polish name).  My dad agreed to it. (My name is not Mandelene, btw). 

2. When was the last time you cried? While reading the ending of Small Country by Gael Faye a few days ago. 

3. Do you have kids? Nope, not yet, haha, but I hope to have kids someday if I can. Two or three but no more than three :) Idk how to explain it, but at some point within the past two years, I started feeling more...maternal toward kids, if that’s the right word for it. I just see kids on the bus and think, huh, yeah, I could have one of those, I think I might like that, God knows why. 

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot? Oh, boy. Yes. It’s not as obvious when I’m online, but ask my mother or my close friends and they will confirm that 90% of my daily life is spent being sarcastic. My life is just one big sarcastic meme. 

5. What’s the first thing you notice about people? How they present themselves -- whether they’re smiling or frowning, standing up straight or slouching, etc. For men, I immediately notice how tall they are because I’m a tall woman so tall men are absolutely heavenly to look at. Any man that’s like 6′2 ft or taller and in their mid to late twenties makes my heart flutter instinctively. (This is how I know I’m definitely straight, bahahaha).

6. What’s your eye color?

Hazel. I joke that I must be adopted because my parents and sister have green eyes, but my great-grandmother had hazel eyes so I guess my parents are my parents. 

7. Scary movie or happy ending? Happy ending for sure. Scary movies rarely have a storyline that I find interesting tbh.

8. Any special talents? I’ve been told I bake a fantastic coffee cake. I can recite the alphabet backwards, and I know some first-aid, but those are skills and not really talents. 

9. Where were you born? I’m a Brooklyn baby. :D Brooklyn, NY. 

10. What are your hobbies? Writing, reading, occasional video-making, playing with my cat, indoor cycler, casual gamer, novice yoga pupil. 

11. Have you any pets? Of course. Most of you know my baby already: 

Macchiato! 

12. What sports do you play/have you played?

Oh, here we go. Brace yourselves for a tangent.

I was the sickly asthmatic kid who was too busy coughing up a lung to play sports, and I’m only half-joking. I played soccer a lot as a kid with my friends, but I was never on a team because my asthma was too severe and out of control for that. I’ve talked about this many times before, but I spent a good chunk of my childhood in the doctor’s office. I missed a lot of school. I got poked and prodded. I cried often about how much I hated being sick. I would be out playing with my friends and have an asthma attack in front of them and feel embarrassed. I would start wheezing and ignore it because I didn’t want everyone to make a big deal out of it. Don’t ever ignore your asthma, please. That never ends well. Sports were something I feared for years.

Midway through high school, my relationship with sports changed completely. I started seeing them as a method to improve my asthma rather than worsen it. My pulmonologist got my asthma under better control by coming up with a treatment regiment that he made sure I stuck to by lecturing my teenaged self at great length and wrote notes to my gym teachers at the start of every marking period. I slowly started regaining my confidence. My doctor made it clear that he was not excusing me from gym completely -- I had to exercise to the best of my ability without making myself sick, and if I kept getting attacks, it was back to the drawing board. If I couldn’t manage to exercise normally, then, in his view, my asthma was impeding my life too much and my medicine wasn’t working for me, which was totally true.  

One of my high school gym teachers, Mr. B, was notorious for being the hardest P.E. teacher in the school. I was terrified of him. Whenever he made us run laps, I would pause when I started feeling unwell, rest for a minute, and then continue. He never said a word to me about it even though he was known for scolding students for stopping. Oddly enough, it took me a while to realize this, but he was always subtlely looking out for me. He always asked me if I had my inhaler with me at the start of class. Although I was often dead last in everything he made us do, he pretended not to notice and never commented on it. I never cheated him. If he said to do 30 laps, I would do 30 laps, even if I had to pause three times in between. Everyone else would have already moved on to other exercises while I was still doing my laps, lol, but I don’t think I ever had to reach for my inhaler. At the end of the term, he pulled me aside and told me, “I know you always tried your best, and I admire that.” He gave me an A. He was the only gym teacher I had who didn’t accuse me of making excuses or being lazy. Many previous teachers had convinced me I wasn’t trying hard enough, so I would push myself, and then I promptly proceeded to have attacks, be frustrated with myself, and end up in tears in the locker room. I needed Mr. B in my life to restore my faith in gym. 

Nowadays I indoor cycle 3-4 times a week for 45 minutes to an hour to strengthen my lungs. Once a week, I have my “long tour” which is when I cycle for an hour and thirty minutes. After cycling, I lift weights for another 15-20 minutes. If I have a cold or any other upper respiratory infection, I stop all exercise until I’m well, and I hold myself to this. I have a better idea of my limits and what sports are best for me. I love swimming, but unfortunately, I don’t have a good indoor swimming pool around me, so it’s not something I can do regularly. Running/Track is still something I really struggle with, but brisk walking or hiking is fine. Last year, I was really into dance classes with my friend. Cycling is super kind to my lungs but leaves me exhausted in a good way, so that’s why it’s my favorite form of exercise. I’m sure if I did it outside though, I’d have asthma attacks. I’m generally okay with all sports/exercise as long as it doesn’t involve long stretches of running with few breaks in between, and I don’t do it outside when it’s cold. I won’t die from a light jog unless it’s the middle of January and there’s a meter of snow on the ground. You can invite me to play volleyball/basketball/tennis/whatever, and I promise I’ll be fine, haha. 

I’ve also tried getting into yoga recently by following some YouTube instructors, but cycling is what I do most regularly and have stuck to. I take frequent exercise very seriously now, and I make it a priority. 

13. How tall are you?

5′10 ft, so 177.8 cm. Super tall, I know. You should see my legs in yoga pants ;) 

14. Favorite subject in school? In elementary school, I enjoyed English classes the most. In high school, AP comparative government in my senior year was my favorite because I love international politics. Then, there came a point in my life when I stopped liking English classes and started despising them (around my second year of university). College English consists of reading novels (which is a good start) and then writing unnecessarily long papers analyzing the novel, but if the professor doesn’t like your interpretation or analysis, they’ll deduct points. They’re not the classes you want to take if you want to actually learn how to be a better writer. They just teach you how to pander to the professor and not how to think for yourself. It’s annoying. Journalism classes get right down to the technical parts of writing and tear your sentences apart. I feel like I gain more from those classes than ones in which I have to write a ten-page essay on the symbolism of a key. 

15. Dream job? A few years ago, I would have said “reporter for the New York Times,” and while that would be incredible, I have multiple dream jobs now. 

I would still love to work at a media outlet. I’d want to either work at the international desk as a writer/reporter or work on digital content like podcasts or short documentaries. However, I can also picture myself working at an NGO or at a think tank. I might also be interested in doing something in government someday--anything that has a direct impact on getting involved in a community. Global politics and writing are my two biggest passions, so if I end up doing work in either of those areas, I’ll be happy. 

Ideally, I can continue writing fiction on the side and publish it someday, but that’s still a dream I have to work my way up to. 

I don’t want to leave anybody out, so if you’re reading this and you want to answer it, consider yourself tagged by me! :) 

[hazeofhearts]

Modern!Billy Hargrove Headcanons

(Ok!! So this idea came to me and idk how many of these there are on here but I it doesn’t matter because this is gonna be great!)

(EDIT 2/15/18: I’VE BEEN WORKING ON THIS FOR LITERALLY TWO MONTHS I HOPE YOU ALL LIKE THIS!!!)

So we all know that Billy likes looking pretty for his ladies based on how long he probably took to do himself up for his date in episode 8.

So we KNOW that the modern boy would be ALL👏🏻ABOUT👏🏻SKINCARE👏🏻

He does face masks like twice a week. One for stress relief and another of random choice from his collection of free samples

When he goes into the store, he pretends to be shopping for you but really it’s for him so he can get the samples

You have ‘girls’ night in and wear your masks and you paint your nails and Billy wears fluffy socks after he puts lotion on his feet because he’s an ‘old man’.

Modern Billy would hate smoking. Hate it with a fucking passion. Lemme explain myself ok?

In the 80s, people were smoking because that was the thing to do. You just did. So everyone smoked.

But now that we know all we know about how bad it is for your skin and lungs and your general health (no shade to anyone that does smoke, it’s your choice but you have to know the dangers and you probably do)

So Billy would smoke for a couple years and then when he got together with you, he stopped because you wouldn’t kiss him if he tasted like cigarettes

To keep Billy from smoking, you replaced his cigarettes with lollipops

Like those Dum Dum lollipops. The ones you can buy in a bag of 100 or something.

You’d put them in his car in place of his cigarette cartridge, on his bedside table, on his desk, in the pockets of all of his jackets

He was never without a lollipop in his mouth

Your favourites on him were bubblegum and blue raspberry

His favourites were cherry and lemon lime

Billy is all about protection and consent in every way possible!!!!

He wants you to feel like you’re safe with him and that you can be assured that you’re not going to get pregnant

So before the two of you even get naked, you’ve talked about condoms and birth control and all that jazz

Depending on if you’re already on birth control for menstruational reasons, this part of the conversation is easy

Condoms are another thing

Billy tries to pull that ‘condoms make me uncomfortable’ shit and you’re not having it

‘Either you wear a condom or you’re not getting ass at all’

Billy wears a condom from then on

He totally buys the funny ones to make you laugh

Like he once bought a neon coloured box of them and you nearly pissed yourself laughing you couldn’t even have sex

The first time you had sex, Billy was nervous as all hell because he knew that you felt your body was a temple and if he disrespected you, he’d be out on the curb

So he went super slow, asking if everything he did was okay

‘Can I go down on you?’

‘I’m just gonna open your legs like this, is that okay?’

You’re like ‘just fuck me already’

Modern Billy still loves his cars

He works on them all the time

He’s one of those guys that finds really shitty cars on the side of the road that have been abandoned or in junk yards and is like ‘yep new baby’

You just love walking into wherever he’s set up shop to see him without a shirt, jeans still as tight as ever, grease stains in the dirtiest places

Like there’s on right in the center of his crotch and he’d bring them to you and be like ‘oh how did that get there???????’

“Baby come kiss me”

“No you’re dirty”

“That’s never stopped you before”

Billy surprising you at work all the time

He starts recording himself going to your work every couple days to bring you coffee or lunch or anything

“Excuse me?”

*gasps because he scared you*

“I brought you your lunch”

He hands you a bag of your favourite food and you immediately break for lunch because you missed your man and you want to spend time with him

You totally live together if that wasn’t obvious by now

Your apartment clashes because Billy is an alpha male who doesn’t pick up anything and just slings stuff wherever there’s an empty space

You however can’t stand when he does that

You’ve managed to get him to replace the toilet paper roll when he finishes one, put the toilet seat and lid down and take off his shoes before walking on the carpet

He still doesn’t put his jacket on the hook by the door but that doesn’t matter because if you’re both coming from somewhere, the entryway is going to be littered with clothes anyway ;)

Which brings me back to sex ofc

So

Sex happens everywhere

On the floor, on the couch, in the shower

Floor sex happens when you come back from a night out on the town and too many guys were looking at you the wrong way

Couch sex happens the day after the night out when you’re both nursing hangovers and all you want to do is spoon so you do but you also fuck

Shower sex is one of those things where it happens rarely and only if you’re both 100% in the mood like if you’re not, not happening

You have sex on the counter and it’s rough and hard and fast and sexy and you can’t get enough and you just want him more and more and more

Sex in an abandoned parking lot at two in the morning in Billy’s car where the windows fog up and you rock the car on its wheels until the sun comes up

Sex in your bed is by far the best though, of course

I mean, you’re both comfortable, you’re both completely naked, you can fall asleep together right afterwards

Bed sex is slow and sensual

Billy thrusts into you slowly and sucks on your neck

He runs his hands all over your body and through your hair

He lifts both of your legs up over his shoulders and now you’re in missionary

Billy presses you to his chest while he fucks you like this, your nails digging into his back

Not painful, but on the edge of too much pleasure

After sex time

YOU👏🏻ARE👏🏻THE👏🏻THE👏🏻BIG👏🏻SPOON👏🏻BC👏🏻MODERN👏🏻BILLY👏🏻IS👏🏻A👏🏻SOFT👏🏻BOY👏🏻

Road trips all the time!!!

You’re both so young and you’re already living together

You need some time to grow but who says that you can’t grow together?

Literally no one

So you drop everything for the weekend and go to the beach, rent a beach house but usually just camp out of the trunk of your car

(You convinced Billy that sex is better in the hatchback of your car than in the backseat of his for the trip. This is almost a daily argument that you guys have and it always ends up in test runs in both cars ;) )

You cook burgers and hot dogs on the mini grill you brought and wrap yourselves up in a giant ass blanket and look at the stars

Talk about the future with each other

Plan your lives together

Modern Billy being in love with the idea of having kids and raising them

He had a shitty childhood and being a teenager sucked ass

(In my AU, instead of projecting out onto others as much as he does, Billy also grows from his abusing father and has a solid relationship with Max after he moves away from his family)

So Billy would be in a constant wave of baby fever

He’d stop moms on the street and coo at their babies

He’d love to go to parks with you and just stare at the kids

Thinking of babies made him think of marriage

Which leads me to....

Billy is not rich by any means

He essentially ran away from home as soon as he was a legal adult and had his high school diploma

He had been secretly packing his stuff up for months and storing it at friends houses and in the backyard of his house

He met you and moved into your apartment with you when you both decided things were going to be serious

So

When he decided he wanted to marry you, he knew he loved you

He had spent his whole life in a rocky home

His father was never around and when he was, his parents fought so hard the pictures rattled off the nails and onto the floor

So if he wanted to marry you, it meant that he trusted you and believed there would be a future with you

He spent weeks hovering around ring stores, looking and looking but never finding the right one

He became frantic, sure that if he didn’t propose soon, he would lose you

He wouldn’t but he didn’t want to be right in his doubt

So after a romantic dinner and even better dessert (ifyaknowwhatimsayin’) you’re slightly disappointed because it was the perfect set up for a proposal

Like Billy splurged on you for dinner

You wore your new red dress

You rolled over and were half way asleep when Billy prodded his elbow into your back

Now you were irritated

You turned sharply to snap at him when you saw the look in his eyes

You’re left speechless

His eyes are so soft, this beautiful sky blue

His bottom lip is between his teeth and he has his arm out for you to roll into his chest

But first he says those words 

“Will you marry me?”

You immediately burst into tears

Billy panicks

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Just forget it!!”

You smack him and say of course you’ll marry him, stupid!

You fall asleep after you calm down and Billy just has the biggest smile on his face

Out of everyone on the planet, he managed to find you

[cryolyst]

'

[sparkleeemarkleee]

Take Me Home Prologue

Prologue: So Am I

Ok so I didn’t really intend for readers to listen to the playlist while reading the story, but you can definitely do it if you’d like to! I was simply using these songs as prompts. Enjoy lovelies!!!

P.S. Idk how to make page breaks so um I’m just gonna use lines for now lol

Also this story will be written under y/n’s POV :)

💙 Song prompt: So Am I by Ava Max ft. NCT 127 💙

Masterlist

Playlist

Introduction to Main Characters

Prologue

Dozens of little kindergartener boys and girls waddled down the hills shrieking and giggling. As per usual, I watched the entire scene unfold. By the time the sun’s intensity felt like the glowing eyes of a phoenix their parents would stroll into school grounds.

It seemed customary for the kids in your class, division 21, to have play dates right after school. I never really understood why they enjoyed it so much or why they would rather be away playing in dirt, sand, and rocks when they could’ve just stayed home with their parents. I watched closely as a pretty aunt with short black hair call her nephews: Jaemin and Jeno. Pretty Auntie had her arms out to embrace them and the boys moved towards her—without taking a breath, Jaemin ducks under her arms with Jeno and they skittishly move across the field back into the big blue slide that they fondly hid inside. Another girl named Lami, who always wore sparkly tiaras, was currently savouring a sundae with her dad. As if she was sparkling, her dad’s eyes seemed to dissolve under her loving gaze. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. I wondered what it would be like to twinkle like that.

I could only gawk from afar. It got hard sometimes because everything here was family oriented; the parents of all the kids in your class knew each other; before kindergarten even began, everyone made friends and clustered into their own group. Leaving you to sit on the sidelines, if it weren’t for your only two friends.

“Y/N, do you want us to drive you home today?” Dana, the second friend you’ve ever made, asked with mud all of her white dress. Her mom smiles at you as she hastily wipes the brown splatters off her daughter.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll just wait for my family,” I said sheepishly. You watched them as they exited through the green gates of your school. I watched them all one by one slowly making their way back home as you sat on the swings patiently letting time roll by.

It began to get cold and your bare legs from under your dress started to prickle under the coolness of the air.

“Y/N,” He huffed. I spun around quickly to see a black haired first grader in a grey hoodie giving you his hand.

I didn’t know it yet back then, but here was my hero—my first friend and first love.

“What took you so long, Mark?” My voice sounded screechy from holding back the tears.

“I’m sorry, but something confusing happened with Hyuck earlier so I had to deal with that and your sister—”

“I know. She had her dance recital today. How’d she do?” I said as I brushed off the tears and any trace of sadness in my voice.

“I dunno. I haven’t talked to her about it because of Hyuck.”

“What happened to Hyuck?” I wondered aloud.

***

“Mom! I didn’t mean to!” He screamed as Mama chased him with a broom in her hand. Instead of watching Tom and Jerry, Sara, Mark, and I comfortably sat on the leather couch and were genuinely amused at Hyuck’s fiasco.

“Answer me again,” she said sternly. “What were you doing hiding in Cecil’s garden?”

“I was admiring her petunias,” Hyuck said with a cheeky smile followed with more chasing until he gave in to Mama’s threats. Sara stifled a laugh, but you and Mark couldn’t help but explode at the hilarity of the entire situation.

“I’m sorry, mom! I was just waiting for his son Rio to come.”

“Why were you missing for 5 hours then? You could have at least called me if you wanted to meet with your friend,” Mama huffed out exasperated. Her busy hands and legs could finally sink into her comforting rocking chair.

Mama might have been sold on the story but you didn’t buy it—neither did Sara or Mark. Being Mama’s eyes and ears, the two acted like parents and were very aware of the many abilities and tricks Hyuck could have up his sleeve. You on the other hand grew up with your younger cousin’s devilish antics that you knew better than to trust his impish smile. One time in preschool, he tricked you into walking into the boy’s washroom and accidentally ran into Mark and his best friend (that you at the time thought was dreamy).

Mama abruptly stands up before her heavy eyes could shut and blurts, “Ms. Kim next door has been patiently waiting for me! I’ll be gone for about 10 minutes, but when I come back make sure to be ready,” she rambles while grabbing a thin jacket out the door.

Once Mama scurried away, you three swarmed around Hyuck practically bursting with excitement to prod at what real business he had to do at Cecil’s.

“So I was kinda dared to steal a petunia from her garden,” he starts off, already making Mark annoyed and Sara to roll her eyes. Sara had an important dance  and couldn’t afford any additional stresses that specific day; Mark on the other hand carried most of the responsibility for Donghyuck and I because of Sara’s recital and nearly jumped Donghyuck at his explanation.

“I didn’t do it though!” he defensively continues, “because I know Mama would kill me, but I made a new friend...and she’s really pretty,” he then breaks off into fits of giggles. You share a look with Sara and burst out laughing. Meanwhile, Mark swats him for causing so much trouble. 

After Mom forgave Hyuck, she brought us out to our favourite diner. Like always, Sara would get herself a grilled cheese sandwich with a milkshake, Mark and I got burgers and split a sundae, Hyuck got fried chicken and lemonade, and Mama would get herself a salad.

Life was simpler back then. Whenever we had a problem, a simple sorry would suffice, we would go out to celebrate, and the atmosphere was always blissful and filled with laughter. It always washed away any pain you felt from school or anything really.

“Y/N, stop taking all my chocolate ice cream,” Mark whines as he tries to scoop off the ice cream on my spoon.

“This is for leaving me alone at the school until 9:30!” You say sticking out your tongue.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said while ruffling your hair and earning a dirty look from my five year old self. “How about...I treat you out to ice cream to make up for it?”

I could never really stay mad at Mark. I pouted a little to pretend that I was thinking about it and finally decided: “Only on one condition.”

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

“The signature chocolate ice cream with green tea cheese cake, only for you, madame,” Mark jokes as he brings out my favourite ice cream.

“With oreo drizzle?” I perked up from the pages of my exam studying. The wave of anxiety from finals cramming just started to hit me now. “You know that I refuse to eat any ice cream without it.”

“Oh, c’mon, Y/N. You’ve been begging for this combination since you were five. Just because I’m older now doesn’t mean I lost my memory,” Mark laughed as he passed me a spoon and slid the bowl of ice cream on my desk. He sat himself down on a stool beside my chair and leaned forward into our conversation.

“Mark, I’m kind of stressing out because I need to do really well on these exams,” you ranted while digging into your ice cream. “Last term, Sara nearly got 98% as her academic average and I only had around 92%. My parents are going to kill me!”

Your parents worked abroad so the only way they really knew you and your sister were through report cards and occasionally video chats. You barely spoke to them, but the only thing they ever told you was to try harder. Even after spending countless hours applying for internships, working on your part-time jobs, and studying to build up your resume, work harder was always their feedback. It wasn’t easy; you were always being compared to the undefeated competition of all time: Sara.

Despite having similar aspirations and work habits it all seemed to come to her naturally. If you spent 6 hours self-studying, Sara could manage with just 2 hours. Every single time, she seemed to effortlessly have new talents appear like magic tricks and she always had one up her sleeve. How could you ever compare?

You hated crying, but you couldn’t help the tears that began to slip from your eyes. 

“Hey, hey, don’t be like that,” Mark said softly. You try to turn your face away from the embarrassment of having him witness everything. He gently brushed his thumbs over your eyes to wipe your tears.

You never fully told Mark about how you felt about your own sister, but thank God he understood. You never had to tell him; he always knew. He wrapped an arm around your back and his other arm carefully bringing your head to rest on his shoulder. You shut your eyes and let your troubled mind just unwind.