#so explain why I’m just as depressed and suicidal as I was in high school when my life was literally falling apart

[chlstarrbaby]

Neighborhood Academy AU Part 2

Part 1  Part 3 (Final)

Trigger warnings: Angst, depressing thoughts, and brief mentions of suicide, unreality.

Another day, another sprint to Homeroom, neck and neck with Eddie carrying Frank over his shoulder like a kidnapped damsel this time, Frank seemed to be getting some last minute studying done.

Oh shoot! Was there a test today? You hoped it wasn’t Marketing, it could get tricky in places when math was actually involved.

“Mornin’ Frank! Mornin’ Eddie!” You greeted politely despite your jagged breaths in keeping up with the absolute powerhouse that was Track Captain, Eddie Dear.

“Morning, (Y/N)!” They replied in unison.

“Congratulations by the way.” Frank mentioned in his usual quite frankly tone.

“For what?” You breathed in confusion. Why the heck was your Homeroom so far from the front of the school anyway? Sure it's a nice way to stay in shape but it's still nerve wracking when you know there’s a high chance that you’ll be late!

“You got Rizzo in that Grease musical, and Wally got Danny so don’t worry, Sally made sure he wasn’t your exact opposite, but it's still oddly fitting.” Frank replied dryly, but well meaning.

“Did Julie get Sandy? I’m gonna feel really bad when I get into character with her.” You asked, explaining your hesitation.

“Yep, she sure did!” Eddie piped up cheerfully. “Seemed pretty excited about it to me!”

“Well, so long as she’s okay with it, that’s all I can hope for.” You mused loud enough for both of them.

Then you suddenly tripped as you simultaneously remembered why Wally would be happy with the roles anyway. That oddly specific old flame tension between Rizzo and Danny was palpable when played right. He would probably look forward to it. But then you really thought about it and…No, he’d look really forward to it if you got Cha-cha instead.

Despite tripping, you stumble instead, quickly regaining enough balance to continue on running. Somehow you saw two different scenarios for an aftermath that didn’t just happen.

One where you definitely fell, hard enough for the skin to come off your knees but not enough to bleed, didn’t hurt any less, but Eddie, bless him and Frank’s awesome friendship with you, didn’t leave you behind as the potential mailman scooped you up and carried you over his other shoulder to Homeroom. You thanked them graciously despite the pain and assured them that you were fine otherwise. You had a small first aid kit in your bag for such emergencies anyway, especially since the school was so darn big that it was a wonder that there weren’t more nurses offices in it.

The other scenario that popped in your head really made you wonder…Wally popped out of nowhere and caught you from your initial fall, slinging you over his shoulder to mimic Eddie with his significant other, and the irony was certainly not lost on you as you protested with kicking and screaming before giving up since you really needed to catch your breath anyway.

Both of those scenarios felt vividly real, visceral even. But neither happened, Wally was nowhere to be seen until you got closer to Homeroom where he was surrounded by fangirls and fanboys again. Still couldn’t actually see him technically but that crowd wouldn’t be there for anyone else, not even you thankfully. Though it was another piece of kindling to your ongoing argument with Wally about how there was no way you were as pretty as he claims you are.

Regardless, the fans crowding around the door to Homeroom was always such a nuisance. You only had one plan to get them out of the way, and honestly it wasn’t a very good one.

“HOMEROOM’S STARTING! NOW SCATTER!” You screeched over the crowd and it worked…slightly against you as now you were swimming upstream against the bunches of students who had to run back the way you came to get to their respective Homerooms.

Eddie barreled through them just fine, but you had to make yourself smaller and brace yourself so as not to get trampled. It got to the point that you ended up standing still and wasted precious time getting to Homeroom, but there were too many students, you couldn’t move…

Until someone grabbed your wrist and led you through the door. When did you close your eyes? You opened them to find that Wally was the one to drag you through the threshold and safety of Homeroom.

His gaze was intense again, but this time you were looking directly at it and it felt ten times worse than having it directed at the back of your head. He was livid. 

But so weren’t you at him for a multitude of reasons, most of which haven’t even happened yet, (and some you weren’t entirely sure if they had happened at some point or not). So you stood your ground while you waited for him to say something.

“What were you thinking, neighbor? You could have been trampled.” Wally’s monotone betrayed what he was really feeling, since he sounded oddly calm.

“I was gonna be late, and so weren’t they, risky as it was, there was a benefit for everyone. Besides, raining on your pretty boy parade is still fun.” You tell him snarkily, mostly gaining confidence on that last sentence. 

His stare softened ever so slightly, knowing him it was most likely from the backhanded compliment.

“You still think I’m pretty after all this time?” Wally asked curiously, clearly flattered as his smirk grew again.

“I may be shorter than you but I’m not blind…You’re still way prettier than me anyway.”  That last sentence was said bitterly, as once again you couldn’t help but make it sting for him a little, though that tended to backfire as the pinprick of tears made their traitorous little ways to the edges of your eyes again, trying to avoid him seeing it by walking past him and over to your seat.

Unfortunately for you he was as observant as ever, and grabbed your wrist as you passed. You didn’t give him the satisfaction of turning your head to look at him. Some deep internal instinct screamed at you to never look into his eyes for too long, as he could hypnotize you at any time.You don’t know where that came from, but after that weird vision of two scenarios after you stumbled, something wasn’t adding up about this year. Lots of little things that you barely noticed until now, but you knew it wasn’t safe to even dwell on them, so you refocused your mind on how you never saw yourself as ever being pretty, as physically showcased by the fact that you decided to wear shorts today, keeping the suspenders since they were nice and classy.

“How can I get it through your head that you really are beautiful, (Y/N)?” Wally asked with a hint of desperation in his voice, silently apologizing for making you cry again but not being able to voice it properly.

You couldn’t help but chuckle darkly as one of those alternate visions gave you a sneaky idea that he didn’t have to go through with… but it would be funny if he did.

“You could carry me to Homeroom like what Eddie does for Frank, but that’s not very neighborly of me to ask and it would really rain on the timing of your pretty boy parade. Otherwise, there just isn’t a way for you to get it through my head since it’s my demon to bear.” You only turned your head a little bit to him so he could hear you, but you still didn’t face him. At the last sentence you snap your wrist out of his hand and head to your seat.

Class was starting, and Wally was out of time to reply to anything you just said.

Mentally you were cursing yourself for one particular wording choice that you had no idea where that even came from. ‘Not very neighborly of you’…You supposed it was another reference to his cutesy nickname for you since his desk was next to yours…but it felt deeper than that when you said it. As if you were spitting the words in his  face without actually spitting, or putting enough venom into it. Too dangerous to do that. You couldn’t put your finger on why that was though…probably for the best.

He was staring at you the entire day of classes. Not that you looked at him directly even once, but it was hard to ignore completely when he’s in your peripheral vision.

You ate lunch on the school roof today, alone you thought. However Barnaby came up to join you. Not surprising, even after a few months you could tell that Wally and Barnaby were absolutely best friends, but in that super comfortable with each other kind of way where they were definitely just friends and not something more like Eddie and Frank. The best analogy you could think of was Mickey Mouse and Goofy.

Regardless, Barnaby was sweet enough to ask to join you first, and though you already had the sneaking suspicion he was here on Wally’s behalf, you did also leave your other friends high and dry too, so he was here for all their sakes too. You couldn’t deny him for checking on you. He even let you lean on him.

“Ya wanna talk about it?” He asked, not beating around the bush, which you inwardly appreciated.

“Depends…what is it exactly that I should talk about?” You ask back, not willing to give in just yet.

“Anything and everything really. Ya look like ya wanna vent but it can only be with specific people, otherwise ya might explode.” Barnaby offered lazily.

“You sure you wanna hear it even if a good chunk of it is about a certain pompadour wearing cactus?” Grateful as you are at being allowed to vent, you couldn’t help but warn him anyway.

“Cactus?” Barnaby questioned in confusion.

“It’s a play on words in this case. Wally’s smile is cat-like, and what are cacti? They’re prickly.” You explain a little, not going further than that and hoping he would get the other half of the joke.

“Oh, so you’re also calling him…?” Barnaby trailed off on purpose.

“Yep.” You answer simply. “Sorry if it seems a bit harsh to call him that, but that’s why I picked a cactus specifically to make it sound more polite.” Surprisingly Barnaby guffawed.

“No, you’re good, it’s really clever!” He chuckled a bit more before getting back on topic. “But anyway, I’m all ears even if it is about him in a negative way, and I cross my heart none of it will go to him.”

“Thanks Barnaby.” You tell him gratefully.

So you rant, leaving out the weird visions from this morning or any other time from little things where you saw an alternate scenario as if it were a highly invasive memory. Even now you saw a version of yourself… jumping off the roof just to get away from…your pompadour wearing cactus. You vehemently ignored it. It wasn’t your reality after all so it wasn’t really your problem. Not now, not yet, and hopefully not ever.

In any case you explain to Barnaby that Wally’s just been insufferable lately even though it's really because of your deeply ingrained insecurity of how you don’t see yourself as pretty even though you have enough sense to know when certain clothes look good on you anyway. You chalk it up to not being complimented very often throughout your life, and Wally’s attempts, especially the elaborate ones (that he had to knock off after a certain point once it got to the principal's ears) just seemed like elaborate but harmless cat-calling.

Barnaby chuckled at the second cat related pun directed at Wally.

“I can assure you he’s not.” He assured you genuinely.

“Thanks, but that brings me to my other fear…but first I have to ask if he really wasn’t into Julie before I came along?” You asked, hesitating because the bigger question was going to sound bad no matter how you worded it.

“Pretty sure he never was, I can see why it would be hard to tell though. We all live in the same area and we all love him dearly as if we were all just family. And sure, he may be highly praised for his good looks by all the fans of the school, but out of every single one of them even after a year, he picked you.” Barnaby explained slowly and succinctly to get his point across. You were all Sophomores so his vague description of the timing made sense.

Doubt bubbled up and through your vocal chords however.

“It could literally have been anyone. I just happened to be a transfer student. A transfer student that ended up in an assigned seat near the rest of our friends.”

Barnaby hesitated, if only because he wasn’t there just yet on that first day of school when you and Wally first encountered each other, he had to hear that from the others.

“Never mind that I know I ticked him off that first day of school twice, and one of those times was when Julie dragged me out of Homeroom to show me where Sally was holding the auditions.” You continued as an afterthought to paint a clearer picture for him. “I’m still surprised he even remotely likes me after that first day, like, I accidentally stopped everyone from fawning over him dead in their tracks at my mere presence, I felt him boring holes into the back of my head after that….I dunno Barns…If he’s really serious about me, I just don’t want to be a tally on a scorecard, ya know? That’s what I’m really afraid of.” You finally admitted to him and to yourself.

Of course that was the base of it anyway, if you were going to be in a relationship, you’d rather it be a lasting one. But you would have to put some effort into it too. As it was, your heart just wasn’t interested in a relationship right now, and if he went as far as to ask for your hand in marriage after graduating and you said yes…it would only be for the tax benefits, and that’s not being honest to him or yourself. That’s no good.

Suddenly you looked up and saw another variation of yourself getting ready to jump off a different part of the roof, definitely a different variation because this one was wearing pants, but you could still tell it was supposed to be you because that was what the back of your head looked like.

Even more suddenly, Wally burst out of the doors to the roof desperately calling out your name…and heading for that alternate version of you.

You only knew Wally wasn’t part of that same vision (this time) because Barnaby reacted to him, and the vibration of the doors opening was so harsh you could easily feel it against your back.

Wally’s desperate screams of your name chilled you to the bone. Of course you got up quickly and screamed his name in turn to get him to stop, to turn around and realize that he was chasing a vision that was only an illusion.

Barnaby followed in calling his name too and running after Wally, but you were faster. Running to Homeroom every morning paid off for something after all. Regardless you had to tackle Wally to get him to stop, he didn’t fall from it, he is taller than you and apparently had enough upper body strength to brush off even physically acknowledging you, so you had to sidestep around him to his front and grab his face, and for safety measures turn him around with his face in your hands so he wouldn’t look at that alternate version of you anymore.

“Barnaby, please stay up close behind me, he’s seeing things that are and aren’t there, we need to limit his view!” You pleaded to the big blue dog behind you.

Directing your attention back to Wally who was still screaming your name and somehow not comprehending you were right in front of him, pleading for you to stay, you had no choice but to do something extremely risky. You reached an arm to cover his eyes.

“Wally? I’m right here, pretty boy! I’m not going anywhere!” You announce loudly but calmly, hoping your voice breaks through his panicking fog with your nickname for him alone.

“(Y/N)?” He whimpered. Oh thank whatever higher being there was out there, he was regaining his senses.

“That’s my name, don’t you dare wear it out. I’m gonna move my arm now okay?” You reply lightheartedly, making sure to warn him of your movements.

“Okay.” Wally said nervously. So you remove your arm and return its position by cupping his other cheek.

His eyes were wide, and his pupils were shaking, not a good sign but you could still work him through this. You walked him through some breathing exercises to help calm him down from his panic attack, and when he finally calmed down enough (that his pupils weren’t going ballistic) he asked if he could hug you.

Of course you allowed it, as you wrapped your arms around his middle to give him more security. Barnaby hugged you both from behind you for extra security. Wally pleads for you to not leave him, he sounded so pitiful, but you couldn’t promise anything.

Surprisingly, over Wally’s shoulder, you could still see that alternate version of you standing on the edge, wanting to jump.

“Hey, (Y/N).” You call out to them. With…great effort, they turn to you, and their face is flickering through different people’s faces, and you realize that they are merely a representative of you, a possibility of you as it were. “I wish you happiness.”

The collective of flickering faces actually smile, and they bow to you before dissipating in the wind.

“I wish all of you happiness, wherever you can find it.” You say to the wind in hopes that it’ll carry to any other alternative versions of you that couldn’t handle the burden of the bigger school that is Life. 

Everyone on the planet is here for a reason, unfortunately it takes too long to even figure out that reason most of the time. It might even be to just exist for the sake of existing to help raise the planet’s vibration.

Ultimately, the meaning of Life is 42, as in, whatever you want it to be. The choice is yours through good times and bad. May you find your happiness soon, dear neighbor.

“C’mon, Wally, Lunch is just about over, let’s go ask Ms. Poppy if we can bake apple pies today.” You suggest lightly, slowly easing yourself out of Wally’s embrace at least.

“Ha ha ha. Okay, neighbor. But I still don’t see how there are apples in them.” Wally replies with his usual monotonous chuckle. You and Barnaby join him in that as the three of you pack up your belongings and head back downstairs to deal with the remainder of the school day.

@starleska

@jenjenweeeee

@mikomitheclown53

@bunny-masks-blog

@imoreosdude

@heyitsmeyourdryskin

[ciciceyina]

Touch Starved part 1

Pairing: Idol!Mingyu × Fem Carat!reader

Genre: Soulmate AU. Soulmates can't be apart from one another for more than a day otherwise they will become deathly ill. Fluff/comfort

Short Summary: Y/n has her life completely uprooted the day her and Kim Mingyu meet for the first time. Follow along as y/n moves to South Korea in order to be with her soulmate and soon realizes that the life she once fantasized about isn't all that she thought it would be.

Notes: Plus size/fem reader, reader swears a lot, soft Mingyu, reader suffers from severe depression and anxiety, golden retriever!Mingyu × black cat!reader relationship. In this first part the italic text is Korean being spoken by the boys. Inspired by other fic tropes l've read, but with my own spin on it. Hope you enjoy! This is the first time I'm publishing a piece of my work, pls be nice lol

  “We are going to get into so much trouble if they find us out here, without security mind you. I don’t know why I let you talk me into this. Hyung is gonna ring us out if he catches us.” Chan pulls his baseball cap down further hoping that would keep the eyes of the fans away. Who was he kidding? The fans would spot them out immediately, this was a suicide mission. 

 “Chan, you’re too uptight. Listen, I have to find her.” 

  Mingyu pulls his face mask up to round the corner outside of the venue. The two had slipped into some casual attire to not attract attention before sneaking out from the rest of the boys. Chan didn’t really believe that they fit in. Not with the two of them looking especially suspicious with face masks and ball caps barely covering Mingyu’s grown out hair. Carats are smart, there was no way they wouldn’t be noticed.

  “Yes that’s all fine and well but if it’s meant to be it’ll happen without you having to sneak around.” Chan tries to keep up with him as he’s speed walking his way through the crowd.

  “She doesn’t know I’ll be here, I have to take measures into my own hands. The clairvoyant specifically said that I would need to be careful. My window of time is slim. I just had Covid, most carats don’t even know I’ll be here. This is exactly what she was getting at.” Mingyu was getting extremely excited, the younger of the two could tell from the pep in his step. Chan grabs Mingyu's arm and turns him around.

  “And how exactly do you expect to pull this off? Say we make it around the venue without getting caught. Are you just going to start touching everyone in your path?” 

  “I was going to leave that part up to fate. I knew I needed to be out here at the very least. Give my lady in waiting a chance.” Chan could imagine the absolute shit eating grin that was under Mingyu’s mask. The man pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily.

  “You’re so lucky I’m a romantic at heart.” 

                                        ~

  “Ahh I can’t believe this is real. I’m so excited guys.” You stare in wonder at the venue hall. They had set up a merch stand and a photo op with a cardboard cut out of the members of Seventeen. You bounce up and down with excitement, you’ve been looking forward to this moment for a long time. 

  Seventeen wasn’t even on your radar until two years ago, when your two best friends had shown you the tall goofy member and claimed he was totally your type. He totally was. Ever since then you fell completely hard for the one and only Kim Mingyu. Something inside of you, something you couldn’t quite explain, drew you to him. Of course you’ve had celebrity crushes before. Nothing new to you, but he just felt different. You were enamored. You chalked it up to K-pop’s highly effective way of selling the members looks and charms to your infatuation. 

  Besides Mingyu, the music that Seventeen produced spoke to your heart. To be here, seeing them live in concert, was definitely the highlight of your career. You needed this ultra boost of serotonin. Work has been a drag, you wish you could move on from your high school job. You have been stuck there for years. Seeing your old classmates move on and up to greater things made you a bit sad. But you didn’t have a clue of what you wanted from your life. This job was comfortable, but was comfortable all you wanted? 

  Pushing your thoughts away you reached into your bag to find the freebies you had made of the members. This was your favorite part, making other fans gifts. Seeing them coo at their biases made you feel seen. These were your people. You handed your friend the bags that were clearly sorted by unit. She was fairly new to the group, but was adamant that she be your little side kick. Having her hold the freebies was a way of teaching her. Although with all the chaos there was little room for teaching. 

  “I plan on handing them out in the merch line. If we’re not too overwhelmed then I’ll start approaching some other people, is that okay?” Marie nods.

 “You got it boss. Just let me know which group you need and I gotcha.” Marie was a newer friend of yours but it felt like you had known her forever. You were only a little sad when you first made contact, hoping she was the one. Sadly not, but you gained a friend you thought you’d have for the rest of your life. At least you had hoped so. 

 “So are we planning to hit up the merch line now or later?” Your other friend, Lauren, asked as she dragged along her twin sister towards the line. Catching her hint you nod and take the lead to the line, weaving in and out of all the other fans. 

  “Now to gain the courage to actually talk to others” You look to Marie and she nods.

  “You got this bestie, I believe in you.” 

                                          ~

  After the (fun) chaos that was the merch line, you had about a couple hours before the doors to the concert opened. The other three had made their way to the restroom. You decided to take a peek outside. It was a little overwhelming with the constant flow of traffic inside. Your antisocial side of your personality was rearing its head. You needed some alone time. 

  As you took in the outside of the arena, you noticed the tour sign on the digital banner. You decided that you absolutely needed to take a picture for the memories. As you did so, you noticed two guys looking a little out of place. They mostly looked confused. The taller one, gosh even with the ball cap and mask you could tell he was hot, was especially bug eyed. Wiping his head around as if he was scanning looking for something…or someone.

  Something inside of you told you to approach them. Maybe they needed help? Or maybe they were fans but were confused about where the entrance was. God knows you and your friends were at first, getting slightly yelled at by the security here. The shorter one made slight eye contact with you, yikes talk about being a creep y/n. You decide to walk up to them so that 

  “Hey, are you guys here for the concert?” The taller one looks spooked by you. The other one goes frigid. Maybe he was just as anxiety riddled as you are. 

  “Um, yes.” The taller one has such pretty eyes, you note to yourself. Maybe you could warm them up to you by being friendly. 

  “Would you like me to take your picture in front of the banner real quick?” You ask sweetly hoping you weren’t disturbing them. 

  The shorter one looks a little confused but the tall one nods his head yes. You reach your hand out for one of them to give their phone to you. They both stare at you. The shorter one, you decide is the younger one, jabs the other one in the side. 

  “Give her your phone.” The tall one hisses under his breath unbeknownst to you, still with your arm outreached. Finally the taller one hands over his phone. With phone in hand you take a quick snap of the two. A weird sense of deja vu hits you, trying to shake it off you rummage into your concert bag.

  “Do you guys want a freebie? Who are your biases?” Shuffling through the little pictures of the members,  you fan the pictures out for them to see. You loved seeing male fans, and you think the members do as well. The two look a little confused at first and the shorter one mumbles something to the taller one. They lean in to look at the pictures in your hands. 

  “Mingyu.” The taller one says, you smile. Shuffling for said man in your pile. 

  “Ahh Mingyu is my bias too, I’m actually kind of bummed that he won’t be here tonight. Here’s a cute one…” you hold out the freebie for him to take. 

  When he does his fingers lightly brush over yours and that’s when you feel it. What you have only imagined before, that first contact with your soulmate. His touch sends heat shooting up your arm and you can actually hear your heart beating faster. Shit. You look up into the man’s eyes to see them blown wide. So it’s not just you feeling this overwhelming sense of comfort. Like you knew this man already. Like you had spent every past life with him wrapped in his embrace. Just like that, hot tears are steaming down your face. Gosh, why were you crying? You didn’t want to cry, but you couldn’t stop yourself. What were the odds of you finding your soulmate at a Seventeen concert, were you dreaming? 

  “Who are you?” You ask as you reach to pull down the mask from his face. You had to see his full face, but before you could an absolute bulldozer of a woman plows into your side. You’re manhandled to the ground and you really wanted to cry now. It felt like she had cracked your whole spine, maybe cracked open your skull too while she was at it. You groan in pain as you try pushing the woman off of you. Who the fuck does she think she is. 

  As soon as she was straddling on top of you, she was yanked away by that strange man. No, not strange, your soulmate. He looked scared. Oh god, what if he didn’t want a soulmate. What if this was the last thing he could have ever wanted from you. Despite your worries you couldn’t help but get lost in those chocolatey brown eyes that you noted earlier. Soulmate, my soulmate. No, don't second guess this, of course he wants you. Why would he look so concerned otherwise? You couldn’t help but think you were so lucky, you could tell this man was extremely attractive. Way out of your league. If you hadn’t just got the wind knocked out of you, you’d laugh at yourself. 

  “Are you alright?!” He touches your arm and you sigh, feeling that warmth again. He sat crouched over you looking for god knows what. Probably some sign of injury. Maybe you had knocked your head a bit too hard, things were starting to become fuzzy. His touch is heightened when he comes across your bare skin, your heart about to burst from your chest. But you felt safe at the same time. You wanted to be cocooned in that feeling for the rest of your life. 

 “I’m fine.” You assure him with a small smile. You lazily reach up to hook your finger around his ear quickly taking in how soft his skin was. You quickly slid off the mask before your chance was taken away from you again. 

  “No way.” You exclaim in surprise. There was no way that your soulmate was Kim fucking Mingyu.

                                                           ~

  “Y/N!! Why did you just leave us like that, are you okay?” Marie strides into the secluded room that you were taken to after getting thrown to the ground. You watch as the twins pile in too. They look a bit upset. Probably with you.

  You hiss, the aid poked a sensitive spot on the back of your head. They had called on the venue to send over their medical staffing to come and check on you. The lady was deep in your hair trying to find the gash she suspected as the cause of your insane dizziness. You were chalking it up to meeting Mingyu, and finding out that he was who you were looking for your whole life. But that was probably the butterflies in your stomach. You laughed a little, this wasn’t seriously happening 

  “I’m fine guys, really. Just a little bump on the head.” You shoo your friends away from you. 

  “I wouldn’t say it’s just a little bump on the head, he told me she all but ran you down into the hard cement. You would be lucky to not have a concussion.” The lady commented. 

  “She was just doing her job. If anything it brings me comfort to know she would protect the boys in such a way.” Your friends look at you curiously. 

 “Boys?” Lauren asks, she crosses her arms and stares at you. You gulp. 

 “I’m like ninety percent sure that I’m currently in a dream. You won’t believe who my soulmate is.” You look at your friends, they all stare at you with weird looks. 

 “Who are you talking about?” Hanna asked. 

 “I think my soulmate is someone from Seventeen.” All three of them let out a little laugh. 

  “I think you hit your head too hard. Could she be having some delusions?” You pout at Lauren who only looks at the aid. Just like you said, it was unbelievable. You didn’t believe it yourself, but you’re sure it was him. 

  “I don’t like the look of this gash, you should be taken to the hospital to get looked at. That hard of a fall could lead to a concussion.” You shake your head and lean away from the woman. 

 “Absolutely not, I’m fine. I’m not going to miss this concert. I’ve been looking forward to it all year and plus I’ve spent too much money. No, there's no way I’m going to a hospital right now.” 

  “We can take her after the concert.” Marie tells the woman. She shakes her head. 

  “I don’t recommend waiting.” She retorted. 

  “That’s okay, I appreciate all of the help but I’m sure you have others to look after.” You grab your bag laying on the chair next to you. Standing up blood rushes to your head but you won’t show signs of discomfort in front of her out of stubbornness. 

  “C'mon, let’s go guys.” You pass the other three to the door which you swing open. Outside are a few men dressed in suits, one with a briefcase looking straight into your eyes. He made you nervous as he started to approach. 

  “Is she well?” He asks into the room that you just left. The aid slips past the four of you to his side. 

  “I told her that we should run some tests at the hospital and to bandage up the gash better, I don’t have all of the necessary equipment here.” The man looks disappointed at the news. 

  “I’m extremely sorry for this, Miss L/N. But please let us make it right by taking you to the hospital. We can talk there about your arrangements.” How does he know my name? 

  “I’m sorry, who are you?” Marie asks from behind your shoulder. 

  “Please forgive me, I’m Mr. Kang. I’m the head lawyer of Seventeen's legal team. We’ve been informed by Kim Mingyu that he and Miss L/N here are Soulmates. We really shouldn’t discuss more here, we will need to talk in a more private area. We can discuss Seventeen's Soulmate contract once we arrive at the hospital. I have some cars outside to take us there right now when you’re ready.” He holds his arm out to gesture to the door down the hall that you all stood in. 

  “Mingyu?!” Your friends shriek in unison.

   You cringe at the loud noise in your ears. Now you don't feel well. It feels as if your head would split in two at any given moment. You clutch at your face, fuck.

  “No fuckin way y/n, no fucking way.” Marie  shakes you and you feel like you’re going to hurl. 

  “Don’t do that. Can we sit down for a moment?” You lean into Marie  as your legs become a little wobbly and you feel slightly numb all over. She clutches at you.

  “Y/N what’s wrong?” 

  “I’m just a little sleepy..”

                                                             ~

  You could hear someone talking over you, but you didn’t want to open your eyes. Sleeping felt so nice, though you don’t remember when you laid down to rest. It didn’t really matter because your head felt amazing. Like someone had laid your head down on a cloud. Now that you think about it, it felt as if someone had their palm resting against your forehead. It didn’t matter, sleeping was more important. 

  “What’s wrong?” You could barely make out the voice. They sounded scared, you noticed the voice was deep. The voice didn’t bring up any memories. 

  “Sir we have to go, she needs to be seen.” 

   “No.” You were curious, of course, but opening your eyes seemed so difficult at the moment. Could they be quiet while you slept? It was very rude of them. 

  “Sir I’m not asking again, let go of her.” The warmth on your forehead shifted to your cheek. Shivers went down your spine, finally you cracked open your eyes. 

 Brown soft eyes were what you noticed first, then the large hand cupping your cheek. You knew this man, you spent hours focusing on him during dance rehearsals on your tv at night. It was Mingyu. Oh Mingyu. 

  “What are you doing here?” You ask softly, a small smile forms on your lips looking at his pretty face. God he was so attractive. He smiles softly back at you but turns his attention elsewhere as you hear someone else call his name. 

  Closing your eyes you return to your sleep. This was such a nice dream. You heard that same deep voice from earlier say something above you. Though you couldn’t understand what they were trying to say. It didn’t matter, you were sleeping, they could leave you alone. You needed your rest. You felt the warmth from your check fade but then again as something was pressed into your hand. You brought your hand up to your face to curl onto your side into a more comfortable sleeping position. 

                                                               ~

[juniperhillpatient]

Okay as a BTVS season-4 hater, and a season 6 skeptic

Why do you like season 6 (genuine question!)

Well, I won’t defend some of the choices in the final episodes (*cough* Seeing Red) BUT I think that people forget that the overall SEASON itself was very strong pre-finale. I also think that while the attempted rape & Tara’s death were poor writing choices made for shock value - Dark Willow was a phenomenal villain & Xander’s yellow crayon speech is one of the most intense, emotional, just GOOD scenes of the show & Buffy & Dawn fighting together side by side is exactly where their arc needed to go so it was very satisfying.

I do think though that a lot of people who dislike the season are perhaps… I don’t know, ignoring the overall season in favor of critiquing a few choices at the end. I don’t know if that’s your reason for skepticism, I’m making a wild guess based on fandom opinions I’ve seen & can understand.

To be honest, I don’t fully understand hating the season as a whole so it’s hard for me to defend it cause like…. What’s so bad about it? I guess it’s hard for me to explain / defend the season without understanding your criticisms fully. It has a few flaws & things that could’ve been done more smoothly but that’s true of EVERY Buffy season except perhaps season 5 which I can’t think of many criticisms for lol! Other than that I think every season has some flaws & I’m not sure I understand what makes season 6 as a season more flawed than the others.

Season 6 means a lot to me as someone had a serious low in my life & had to work through the mundanities of depression recovery & climbing up from rock bottom. Buffy’s return from the dead reads a lot like an allegory for coming back from a suicide attempt or something like it to me. Buffy’s journey navigating the world while navigating this feeling of disconnection hits harder for me than any other story about mental health ever has. I love that Buffy is a coming of age story but not just about high school! The entire story & every step of Buffy’s journey just means the world to me.

Willow’s downward spiral was also incredibly well done overall / for the most part. I mean…. Willow’s character arc from the meek shy sweet girl we meet in the first season to one of the scariest villains of the show is such a wonderfully written slow burn!

I’ve talked before about why I love the trio as villains, but I do! I think they’re entertaining & compelling villains & I love them.

I also just think the season does a FANTASTIC job at something rare - & that’s balancing the freaking vibe!!!!

I love dark themes in media but I often don’t enjoy “dark” shows because they go all in with the depressing bleak vibes to the point of not even being fun or entertaining. Buffy season 6 is hilarious! There’s a monster that looks like a penis & comes out of an old woman’s head to eat fast food workers! There’s a musical theatre episode! Tabula Rasa? Hellooo?? Don’t get me started on the trio! And it all feels right & maintains the dark vibes of the season with black comedy that fits the moment.

Season 6 is just an absolute blast to me, it’s definitely my most re watched season. The episodes are all so entertaining & I love it. Thank you for asking!

[sarcasmco]

>> tear myself apart by tate mcrae

task003 - pt.01

tw: depression, guilt, anxiety, impending doom, slight suicidal thoughts, death mention

the day of christopher nash’s memorial... robin couldn’t bring herself to go, opting to sit in her room, lights never turned on. her heart was with the family, but a gnawing feeling of responsibility was clawing its way up her throat. it felt as though she needed to cry but physically couldn’t, so it traveled through her body in shivers. after everything they had lost, after everything they had been through, witnessed, done. 

this wasn’t the path she expected to find herself down, surrounded by people who understood yet feeling oh so alone. what would happen next was up in the air, a guess to anyone, and robin felt something in the pit of her stomach that insisted it would be bad, and there was a lot she wanted to get out before it was her time. so much she needed to say that she could never really say out loud, or simply wouldn’t allow herself. 

so she grabbed a pen and paper. first ammends: herself - the child that had everything and then had it taken away.

hi,

i was going to write "dear robin" but that just feels stupid, doesn't it? i wish i had your ignorance right about now. if i told you what was going on, you would think i was lying anyway, that it was just another crazy movie plot that mom was going to yell at us for. but just listen, okay? 

why am i writing now? well... it’s hard to explain. i’ve thought about you; missed you. after trying so hard to forget all those bad times, i feel like i can’t anymore. i can’t run anymore. to be who i need to be, i need to be you too.

there’s a memorial today for a kid that... probably went through hell, if i’m being honest. i should’ve done something; i could’ve done more. am i to blame? maybe if i hadn’t tried to bury it like everything else in our life, if i didn’t want our life to be normal so bad, maybe i could’ve looked harder, talked to the right people, actually helped and not hid like a fucking coward.

i’m selfish. maybe it should’ve been me. not you, but me, because we are not the same anymore, and i don’t know when exactly that happened.

i tried so hard to stay true to you, but maybe i am just like mom and dad. i just go along with what people tell me, what’s easy, go where they tell me, and then i’m left with the fallout when things go bad. i know there’s nothing i logically could’ve done, but it doesn’t feel like it. there’s the shape of a dead kid in my heart that will never be filled because of what i failed to stop!

fuck this isn’t what i wanted, any of it, but i have to remember, it’s not all bad. you’ve found a family of sorts; of misfits that make you feel like maybe, somehow, you do belong in this big, strange world. there’s this guy named steve who completely ignored us in high school, but actually turned out to be really cool. we’ve gone through some really awful situations, but he’s always with you at the end of it. he’s our best friend, and we feel so safe with him, i wish you could’ve met him. eddie is like looking in a mirror, you would’ve loved him. everyone calls him a freak, and every time it kills you a little inside. you want to protect him, but all you can do is make him smile when you get the chance. and max is the best little sister who you silently vow to always watch over. she’s feisty and reminds me a lot of us to be honest, before... before everything got so bad.

i'm sorry, rob. truly. i had hoped to have better news for us by now. you deserve so much better, and if i do make it through this, all of this, i promise to do right by you.

even if it kills me, she wants to add, but doesn’t. there are wet spots on the paper, but she doesn’t think about them. she wants to burn it, but she’s tired, so she tosses it in a drawer and forgets about it.

[readbykate]

The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky Star Rating: ★★★★★ Release Date: February 1, 1999 Genre: YA Fiction Number of Pages: 213 Date Read: March 11, 2016

First Line: “Dear Friend, I am writing to you because she said you listen and understand and didn’t try to sleep with that person at that party even though you could have.”

Favorite Quote: “‘Charlie, do you know how smart you are?’ I just shook my head no again. He was talking for real. It was strange. ‘Charlie, you’re one of the most gifted people I’ve ever known. And I don’t mean in terms of my other students. I mean in terms of anyone I’ve ever met. That’s why I gave you the extra credit work. I was wondering if you were aware of that?’ ‘I guess so. I don’t know.’ I felt really strange. I didn’t know where this was coming from. I just wrote some essays. ‘Charlie. Please don’t take this the wrong way. I’m not trying to make you feel uncomfortable. I just want you to know that you’re very special and the only reason I’m telling you is that I don’t know if anyone else ever has.’”

  Review: A truly unique coming-of-age story told through a series of letters to an unnamed friend. Our main character Charlie corresponds his first year of high school, writing about both the highs and lows. We soon learn there is a much darker past to Charlie than was first known. We also watch as he finds friends, falls in love and faces the trauma of his past. 

Admittedly, I first read this book at a time in my life when I wasn't really in the mood to accept what this book was trying to tell me. It has taken me a lot of growing, life experience, and most importantly, reflection, to appreciate this novel. It wasn’t until my second read years later that the purpose of this book truly hit me. 

I see a lot of myself in Charlie. For a long time I repressed or explained away past trauma and once I fully understood it I became deeply depressed. One of the major themes in this book was the importance of participating in life; for a long time, I was not doing that. I still find it very difficult to do so because of depression and because I isolated myself for so long that I lost many friendships. With that being said, it is also very easy to feel like a burden when you are in such a terrible head space. I read this for the second time when I was trying to trudge my way out of the dark waters of my mind and I found a lot of comfort in Charlie and everyone who helped him, because, even though I didn’t necessarily have people like that in my life, it helped to pretend as if I did, as if they were talking to me. 

With that being said, this is not a happy book. If you have experienced trauma it is not easy to read and just because it helped me does not mean it won’t negatively affect any progress you’ve made in addressing your trauma so please read this with some caution. 

Content Warnings: abortion, abuse, alcohol abuse, bullying, car accident, death, drug use, homophobia, incest, infidelity, mental illness, pedophilia, racism, rape, sexual abuse, suicide

Disclaimer: This blog was started in August of 2022, so some of my past reads from many years ago are not posted/reviewed because I don’t remember them well enough. With that being said, you can find a full list of all my read books in the links on my blog’s homepage :)

[biohazard-inevitable]

Death and My Life

⚠️Warning for talks of suicide and other grim death topics!!⚠️

People worry about me when they find out how casual I am about death

To them, I’m depressing, grim, haunted and troubled

“Dont think like that”

“Are you okay?”

“Doesn’t it bother you?”

And in truth, it used to, in the past.

I used to want it to come faster, used to wish I’d never wake up.

Ive been in some dark places, but now, death is a faint comfort.

I dont desire it, not anymore.

Instead, I walk alongside it.

People look at me strange when I tell them it relaxes me, and I cant for the life of me begin to explain.

But death, is already a part of me. A part of everything.

We’re all on one big fuse destined to explode and collapse one day.

We are not infinite.

Growing up, death was something that happened around us, something we didn’t think about.

You dont consider that your hamburger is dead, that bouquet you picked from the yard is dead, that bug squashed by the flyswatter is dead, the squirrel smeared across the road is dead.

Death was something that happened to things, to objects, but certainly not to people.

We’d see it on the tv in nature documentaries, maybe you discected a frog in school, maybe you squashed a lizard in a door or watched a fish choke to death as you held it from a string out of water

Maybe your first experience with death was a pet.

Maybe a grandparent.

Or maybe even a dear friend.

Mine was a boy.

I didn’t know him well, just his name and his face.

Maybe that makes it worse, that he was a random kid.

We were grade-mates.

He was nice, I would watch him play at recess and heard him be called upon in class.

I didnt really know him.

I didn’t know his favorite color or favorite animal or even what cartoons he liked to watch.

One day, he was gone.

We were only children, just barely double digits.

11, maybe 12.

He shot himself.

And then he was gone.

His seat, empty for the rest of the year.

I never saw him again, and for a while, the world felt empty.

So this is death.

I thought to myself.

I wasn’t really all that sad.

Couldn’t be.

I didnt know him,

But I cant forget him.

I still think about him, from time to time.

Think about how we would have graduated together, probably gone to high school together.

Nobody talks about him anymore.

Hes gone.

It surprised me, to be truthful, about how death can just come and go so silently.

I don’t think I can go back to how I was before.

But now, I find death an odd comfort.

I collect the dead, be it bones or furs or leather.

Its like they matter, like now there’s someone there still to see them.

They didn’t just dissappear.

They didn’t stop showing up.

Their body is here, but still they’re gone.

Its comfoting, to know that in some bleak way, nothing matters.

We’ll all dissappear.

We’ll all die.

It’s inevitable.

There’s no stopping it.

So, why should you care about anything besides your joy?

We’ll all die

So enjoy what you want.

Why judge anyone for what they like when at the end of it all

We’ll all just be another obituary

Sure, its sad, and it can be scary.

We cry, but we’re human.

Theres nothing we could have done

Maybe it makes me apathetic or cynical

But I’ve grown weary of worrying about my clock.

Sure, i know its ticking.

But isnt everyone’s?

You cant run from death

So its the strongest thing to believe in.

I’ve stopped running

When it happens, it’ll happen

And I’ll leave knowing i’ve done all i could to be as happy as I can.

Whatever happens afterwards will happen

Because as far as this realm is concerned

It doesnt matter

[wolves-willow]

Birth control / contraceptive PSA

I was on the pill for 10 years to manage my period. I started when I was about 13-14 years old, bleeding horrendously and having the worst cramps imaginable. The pill helped manage that, but little did I know that at 24 years old, I would have suspicious tumors all over my liver. They can’t biopsy them because poking them the wrong way will cause me to bleed to death, so they’re monitoring them for now to make sure they don’t grow. If they grow, they have a higher chance of becoming cancerous.

So, if you’ve been on birth control for a significant amount of time, PLEASE switch it up! Talk to your doctor about your options!

But believe it or not, the liver issues aren’t even the worst I’m hurdling right now. As of late, I’ve been having awful depressive episodes. I’ve been crying a lot lately over silly reasons or no reason at all. I feel way more anxious and drained than I have in years. I haven’t felt this ((trigger warning)) suicidal since high school. I’m finding every reason I can to worry that my boyfriend is going to leave me. That just because I don’t get along with his dog, or said something stupid, or didn’t answer back fast enough that that will be the straw that breaks the camels back and he breaks up with me. This fear has me crying hysterically and enduring panic attack after panic attack. It’s been hell. Literal fucking hell and I feel powerless to it. 9-10th grade was the last time I’ve felt so afraid of myself and my mind.

What does this have to do with birth control?

What they also don’t tell you is that coming off birth control after 10, your body is going to be royally fucked. Not only is my period back with a vengeance, but I’m having depressive episodes that surpass the capabilities of my antidepressants. I’ve got acne exploding all over, headaches, and just a general shitty-ness about me. When I first exploded into a crying fit in front of my boyfriend, I couldn’t give an explanation and I couldn’t until today… when I realized that it can take 6+ months for your body to adapt to post-pill. The fact that he seemed dismissive of this fact as if it were a sorry explanation as to why I erupted didn’t make it any better. And no matter how many times I explain the situation about me and his dog, I’m the jerk. But that’s another story…

If you’ve been on any kind of contraceptive for an extended period of time, PLEASE TALK TO YOUR DOCTOR. You don’t want liver leisons, a period with a vengeance, explosive acne, and depression. Everything about life sucks so hard right now and it all stems back to that stupid little white pill.

[vivacioussaint]

TW: Depression and sui thoughts

You know, as a 19 year old, I’ve come to terms with how my life is going to be.

Alone

Boring

People pleaser

Alone- because no matter what I fucking do, I’m not valued enough by my own fucking family. I don’t have any friends. I have coworker, but do they count? Hell no. I tried joining the dating scene by joining dating apps? Did it work? No.

And sometimes, I feel like I’m to blame. I don’t put enough effort into being social or outgoing. Extroverted and cheerful. Instead, I’m introverted, a homebody, antisocial. Crowds are too much for me. Sitting and eating alone sounds nice. Looking at a YouTube video in the grass away from everyone else, splendid.

Boring- A homebody. I rarely go out and when I do it’s mostly just to grab things necessary. Like skincare. Personal hygiene, food, etc.

Do I go out because I feel like it? No. And either way, I’ve learned to save money, that’s the good thing. I’m saving my money in order to be able to go to college in the fall. To finally start my new career choice.

Will I make friends then? Probably, but will I be able to explain to them I feel comfortable in my home and don’t want to go out as much? I can only hope.

People pleaser - this is the most important one. I can’t for the life of me be fucking selfish. I would sacrifice so much of myself to make at least the person happy. Especially my mother.

I remember in high school she would come home tired, exhausted. To the point she wants to lay down. I would vacuum, mop, clean the dishes, throw out the garbage, fill up the water filter, help with laundry, etc. All without an allowance. Sometimes complains to my mom it’s too much and that my sister should do something instead of sleep the moment she get home (it rarely worked).

So when I finally started to work to support myself and my mother, while my dad finds work. I handed over the chores to my sister. What does she do? Demand to be paid for her labor. If she doesn’t get paid, she won’t do it. And if she doesn’t get paid for her work, after it being half assed, she will throw a fit.

So I helped my mom with her allowance. $60 from me every 2 weeks. And $30 from my mom every week. In total she made $240 a month to keep our house “clean.” The kitchen floor dirty from spills. Our dogs bring in dirt/mud for her walk outside, the cats litter scattered, the pots and pans still left on the stove while the dishes were washed, the garbage taken out of the bin and put on the floor.

$240 a month for that. While I did it without any of the demand things she wanted. Instead I did it with the thought of. “Let my mom come home to a clean house so she can relax.” Even if my mom didn’t ask, I still did it.

I started working to help her with her debt, to help her pay the bills sometimes, to help her out while my dad tried to find a stable job.

Overall, I think I’m not meant for this family. When my coworkers hear how I’m doing this for my mom, they said they wish they can have a daughter like me. They would kill to have a daughter like me. How great of a daughter I would be.

And sometimes I think it’s true. My mother doesn’t acknowledge me sometimes. Doesn’t acknowledge how much I would do for her, why I’m doing this for her, what I would give to try to make her life a little bit easier.

And with these thoughts, it eats at me. Because I think it would be better if I just, left this family. Whether physical or spiritually. Like run away and say I’ve had enough. But who tf wants to pay $2000 a month of rent in Miami, FL. For a fucking apartment. The lowest it can go is $1200. That’s my whole pay check from working as a medical assistant. And don’t even get me started on the suicidal thoughts, sometimes I want to go with the plan I had curated in my head, but I can’t.

I can’t leave my mother who I care for, I can’t leave my sister although she not the best I still love her, and my father who has my name and face tattooed on his arm since the day I was born.

It’s just been overwhelming and when it bottles up. It just comes out one day, sometimes I tell these things to my mom and although she listens, she doesn’t know how to handle my feelings. So much so that she has to go to my sister to get support. And when I suggest and intervention such as help from a therapist, she dismiss the idea.

So I’m just stuck, accepting life for what it is. That this is how it might be as I get older.

And I’m scared I’ll be okay with it.

[luvchaes]

7 reasons why it happened

genre: angst, some fluff, broken friendships, incidents of betrayal

pairing:ot8 highschool student! ateez

summary: it has been 5 months since jung wooyoung jumped to his death. while the whole school still seems to be mourning his sudden death, 7 boys each receive a mysterious letter containing written contents related to the boy’s death. as all of them read their own letters, they slowly discover their seemingly unharmful actions may result in unpredictable hostile situations.

warnings: mentions of suicide, quite a large amount of swearing, underaged drinking, smoking, substance abuse and violence.

note: the plot of this story is inspired by 13 reasons why (which y’all should totally watch) and the words in bold are texts from the letters and words in bold italic are flashbacks<3

note (2): the show 13 reasons why contains very disturbing topics such as SH, SA, violence, substance abuse, rape, and quite gory in some scenes where blood is explicitly shown. please don’t watch the show if you are easily triggered by such topics!

“Remember, you’re not alone. Our counsellor, Ms Park, is always available to talk to. Always be alert of any signs of depression and make sure to tell a teacher or a responsible adult. At Sliveta High School, we will not tolerate any bullying of any form and we will always remember and mourn the loss of one of our treasured students, Jung Wooyoung.” Soft lifeless claps were emitted before the students started to make their way to their first morning class.

“Shit’s fucking messed up.” Seonghwa muttered under his breath.

“Good to know that you’ve finally got a pair of eyes to notice that. Shit had gotten messy since the beginning.” Hongjoong responded to the boy’s statement, rolling his eyes. As the two made their way down the long crowded hallway, they could not help to notice a large group of students gathered in front of the school’s trophy cabinet. Whispers were heard along with the loud clicks of the cameras.

“It’s a fucking memorial, not a tourist attraction!” Hongjoong grumbled, annoyance evident in his eyes as he witnessed students from all levels trying to snap a picture of the small memorial dedicated to Wooyoung.

“Can’t blame them, can we? The student council could’ve put it somewhere else more discreet, right Mr President?” Seonghwa replied in a snarky manner.

“Jesus, it wasn’t even my idea! Whatever, I’m leaving. See you in English.” Upon uttering that last sentence, Hongjoong stomped away, leaving Seonghwa all alone.

The bell had went off a while ago, and Seonghwa was the only one left standing in the now empty hallway. He swiftly opened his locker, grabbed his Chemistry textbook, and shoved the locker door close. As he did that, he saw a white envelope flutter to the ground. Seonghwa bent down and picked it up. Strangely enough, his name and address were neatly written on it, so why would it even be delivered to his locker instead of his own house?

Curiosity was beginning to get the best of him and he hurriedly tore the envelope open. Just as he was about to read the letter that was placed snuggly in the envelope, he heard a booming voice call his name.

“Mr Park, off to class! You’re late.” Mr Lee, the discipline master instructed Seonghwa. Seonghwa glanced at the letter one more time before shoving it into his back pocket frantically.

“Yes sir.”

——————————————————————————

Dear Park Seonghwa,

Hey, it’s Wooyoung. Jung Wooyoung. If you’re reading this, it means you are the first person to get this letter. I know this may seem out of the blue and a little strange, but I promise you that this letter will explain everything.

“What in the actual fuck.” Indeed, the senior was confused, shocked and scared. With shaky hands, he held up the letter closer to his eyes and continued to read.

You know how everyone says life is short and you should treasure it. Well, I wholeheartedly agree and I tried to treasure my existence on this planet. Keyword, tried. Life at Stilveta was…torturous, to be extremely frank. However, you made it a little bit better for me. You were so nice to me on my first day. I remember being lost and you helped me find the Chemistry Lab. You even offered to hang out with you and your friend group, which honestly, was the best thing a lonely new kid could ask for. You were the most friendly and kind person I had have ever met that day.

So thank you. But that is not what this letter is about.

As much as I loved to believe that nice people actually existed, I could not help but to have my doubts. You, Park Seonghwa, was nice to almost everyone. Campus sweetheart, basketball captain, school heartthrob etc. You were all that. The amazing, one and only, Park Seonghwa.

I get it. You had an image to keep.

But I never knew you would go to such an extent and throw someone under the bus.

At that moment, Seonghwa felt time stop. His room started spinning, cold sweat trickled down his forehead and his breath started to quicken. His heart pounded against his chest and it felt as if Seonghwa was about to pass out onto the ground.

He knew what Wooyoung was referring to, all too well.

“Seonghwa, what in the actual fuck is this?” Wooyoung was immediately shushed by the taller male’s hand that covered his mouth.

“Not here Woo. Science block. Now.” Seonghwa whispered before dragging Wooyoung by the forearm all the way to the Science building, the most secluded part of the school campus. Wooyoung could feel shock course through his veins as he still could not believe his eyes that Seonghwa, Stilveta’s “all-star student and nice guy”, had weed in his possession.

Seonghwa was bombarded with numerous questions from the latter and he could not help but to just remain silent. Achieving academic success all the time in order to uphold his reputation was extremely difficult. Nothing ever truly helped him relax except getting high. It was detrimental to his health, but Seonghwa had no choice.

“Do me a favour and keep it with you for now. Return it to me after school. We’re friends, right? Friends do things for each other!”

“But not this, Hwa! You need to tell someone! Please, Seonghwa! This is not healthy.” Wooyoung tried to reason with the desperate male who was on the verge of tears.

“Please fucking hide them Wooyoung. I can’t let anyone find out, not even Hongjoong or San. Please!” As much as it pained Wooyoung to see his friend so utterly anxious, he had to stay true to his own values. Seonghwa was a friend. Indeed, friends help each other, but it was time for Seonghwa to fix this problem on his own.

“I’m sorry Seonghwa. I won’t tell the teacher, I promise.” Wooyoung uttered out before walking away, leaving the taller male crouching on the ground, tears cascading down his cheeks.

Maybe if I had covered up the truth for you, things would have turned out to be completely different. But I did that because I cared about you, Hwa. You needed serious help. Not from me, not from Hongjoong, not from Mr Lee. A professional. A therapist.

It was obvious you did not see it that way.

Your feeling of betrayal was completely understandable. Everyone has always been at your service to help you with the everything, even the most bizarre matters.

Your feelings spiralled out of control, and you decided to let it out on me.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

“Sorry to disturb your class, my dearest students. It seems that a student in this class is in possession of drugs. We will conduct a bag check right this moment.” Mr Lee announced. The constant rustling of bags, thumps of books being poured out of their containment and quick firm footsteps filled up the once quiet room.

Seonghwa and Wooyoung shared that one particular class, World History. What confused Wooyoung the most was after one of the teachers went through Seonghwa’s bag, she simply put it down and walked away calmly. Wooyoung was sure he saw the drugs. The two of them had an episode just half an hour ago.

The boy was so caught up in his thoughts that he did not detect his bag being scoured through. He was snapped out of them when Mr Lee banged his table, causing Wooyoung to jolt in response.

“Young man, may I know what is this?” Wooyoung’s eyes widened in utter shock. He glanced to the other students in the classroom. All eyes were on him, mostly confused while a few students snickered at the poor boy. It was when Wooyoung caught Seonghwa’s eyes. They were cold and emotionless, but if he were to look closer, they withheld a look of victory and smugness, subtly bringing across a message along the lines of “I told you so.”

Wooyoung’s gaze travelled back to Mr Lee’s palm. He was doubtful at first and thought Mr Lee was simply referring to the miniature pen knife that Wooyoung carried around in the front pocket of his bag for self-defense purposes.

Wooyoung was proven wrong. In Mr Lee’s palm, weed was present. A huge plastic bag of weed.

——————————————————————————

Park Seonghwa, you are indeed a smart cookie. I’m surprised the drug did not mess up your brain yet. ( sorry I thought that was hilarious ) As you hoped, Mr Lee and the headmaster did not believe me. Why would they anyway? I was the new shy kid who obtained average grades in all my classes. I had no reputation before, but after that incident, everyone called me the “Drug Dispenser”. They could have been more creative with the nickname, I have to admit, but man, it still hurt. It hurt even more when you did not even try to defend me in the principal’s office and in the hallways. I thought friends helped each other Seonghwa. I never snitched about you snorting weed, but you fucking threw me under the bus.

You were absolutely merciless, Park Seonghwa.

But I began to forgive you. You seemed to forget about the incident anyway. Even though you started to ignore me from then on, I still treasure our friendship.

So I thank you once again. Thank you for being my first friend at Stilveta High. Thank you for tolerating my clumsiness. Thank you for always tutoring me in World History that I managed to barely pass.

Thank you for being the first reason for me to wipe my existence off this world. Thank you for being the first reason for me to die.

Lots of love,

Jung Wooyoung

Seonghwa got high that night. Quietly.

[annie-blackhill]

I'm feeling depressed, I have a competition to give a speech for and I'm high on coffee... I just finished crying but I got this idea and I'm hoping that this would help comfort me, I'll just give this a shot.

____________________________________

Headcannons of Dazai Osamu with an S/O who kidnaps Yumeno Kyusaku and becomes a foster mum for him

__________________

You were with Dazai in the Port Mafia and you knew Kyusaku well

You two used to play together back when you were still in the Port Mafia

When the time came for you and Dazai to run, you had left a note for Chuuya, telling him to take good care of Kyusaku for you.

After the whole, Guild and Fyodor fiasco, you decided that you should get Kyusaku back after seeing how The Guild had used him

So, with the help of Chuuya who wanted the child to have a better life and surprisingly Akutagawa too, they helped smuggle little Kyusaku out of the Port Mafia and you brought him to your home at the ADA's hostel

That night, you removed the glass and blades that had been imbedded into the little child and wrapped him up in Dazai's spare bandages that you had managed to steal from him

You clean and treated his wounds and then wrapped the small child up in bandages.

Kyusaku was relieved at most that he was finally out of the Port Mafia

He didn't really talk much to you that night but he did snuggle with you in your futon

Imagine Dazai's shock the next morning when the suicidal maniac that doesn't have a sleep schedule comes by to wake you up only to find the little Yumeno Kyusaku in bed with you

Cue him screaming and yelling and panicking in a way to get you up

You did wake up, angrily

When Dazai explained why he reacted in such a way

You merely told your sometimes scared to death dumb boyfriend that you had kidnapped the child and was now keeping him as your foster kid

Dazai was not amused, at all

He would be alert 24/7

Makes sure that Kyusaku doesn't get too close with you and all that

When you told Fukuzawa about this and assured him that no trouble would come to the agency and that she'll take the blame and all that

Fukuzawa said that as long as the child was safe and well in your care then he doesn't mind a few fights for the sake of Kyusaku

Kyusaku comes to work with you everyday and Naomi and Haruno have the most amazing, they play with him and give him some paper and crayons for him to draw with

Atsushi is very wary of Kyusaku like Dazai

Those two would always be giving the small boy distrustful looks and glares from time to time, Kyusaku didn't mind since he was used to being given those type of looks even back in the Port Mafia too

You shower the small boy with love and sweets and healthy food, after you found out that he was malnourished

After some time, and Kyusaku stopped being on edge all the time and Mori never sent anyone to come after the small boy, he started to loosen up a little and started to act like kids his age

You didn't trust schools to treat Kyusaku right so you decided on homeschooling him instead

After work you would teach the boy a normal school's syllabus to him

Kunikida would help you whenever he's free but overtime, he started to leave a slot empty in his schedule for him to teach Kyusaku

Dazai starts to warm up to the child too, but Kyusaku still had a medium sized hatred for the older man

Dazai tried to win the small boy's heart with sweets and gifts and sometimes would try to bring the young boy out to carnivals and fun fairs

Dazai just saw a younger version of him in the little boy and he couldn't help but want to make sure he didn't become like Dazai when he grew older, thus Dazai trying to give him a better life too

By the time Kyusaku is a teenager, he's extremely smart, well nourished (you're so damn proud that he's well nourished because Hell knows he was a friggin skeleton when you brought the child in) and is happy like any other normal teenager should be

He likes skateboarding and plays chess like a pro, loves having chess matches with Ranpo

Atsushi grew onto the boy too

Dazai was your husband now

And he has a little baby sister who looked like the female version of Dazai but with your eyes

He really loves her and he's a protective big brother

Chuuya and Akutagawa visits from time to time to meet Kyusaku and you daughter

You always thank the duo for helping you that day

And everyone has a Happy Ending

____________________________________

I'm sorry if it was cringe, OOC or incorrect but it's just how I think everything would how down.

Requests are open!

So please do request some stuff from me!

You can ask questions too, I don't mind answering random questions from time to time!

Thank you!

[galaxysupreme17]

Hold On

Olivia Benson X Daughter Reader!

TRIGER WARNNING! Cutting/Bullying/attempted suicide. So this isn’t my first time writing but it is my first time posting on here. I write a lot of stories manly about my favorite tv shows/characters. Anyway this is a short story about being Olivia Benson’s Daughter and having depression and someone keeps leaving notes telling you to kill yourself. Olivia is currently a detective around season 14. If you guys have any request send them in and I will write them! 

As you walk through the walls of your high school trying to keep your head down, not wanting to be seen, you walk up to your locker and open it. A bunch of notes come flowing out of it. You squat down, pick them up, and read through them. 

“No wonder your mom is ever around. It’s probably because you are a horrible no good person” and another “my god just go kill yourself” and another “the world would be a better place if you weren’t here.” 

After reading all of them you quickly shoved them into your bag and shut your locker. You walk home and as fast as possible open your apartment door. You run to your bedroom and burst into tears.

 You have been getting these notes for months and slowly you have been believing them. You have your own personal bullies. Their names are Holly and Jamie. They make your life a living hell as often as they can.

 Holly is the captain of the cheerleaders and Jamie is captain of the football team. You open your bag, after drying your tears, and pull out the notes putting them with the others, which are in a box on your desk right next to the picture of you and your mom. 

You smile at the picture through your tear eyes and pull out a pen and paper. You quickly write down a suicide note and leave it on the counter in the kitchen for Olivia to find.

 You then walk to the bathroom and pull out a bottle of pills and your razor. Before doing anything you think about your life.

Olivia was the best mother in the world. Always coming to every performance of every musical and always being there when you needed her. She would be there when you woke up and when you went to bed. 

You remember going to the park when it was snowing and the rest of the squad went and you and Fin ganged up on Cragen throwing snowballs at him. Then the bullying started and your depression and anxiety got worse. You dropped theatre and show choir because you didn’t feel the joy of singing anymore.

 After a little bit of thinking you continued with your plan. You took the razor and slid it across your arms and legs watching as the blood came running down. You grab the bottle of pills and start taking them; at first one by one but then continued until even after you started to feel dizzy. Within in minutes you passed out on the floor. 

~With Olivia~

Olivia finally got off work just ready to be home. She was happy because she was finally going to have an evening with you. She had planned to let you pick dinner then you both would curl up on the couch and finish watching Gilmore Girls. You started that show together loving it because it reminded you both of your relationship with each other.

 You were Rory and Olivia was Lorelai. The memory makes Olivia smile as she drives home. As soon as she parks her car and heads the flight of stairs, she gets a sickening feeling in her gut telling her something is wrong. Olivia rushes to the door and fumbles with her keys to get the door open. Finally, after struggling, she gets the door open and walks inside.

 “Y/n! Y/n Where are you?” Olivia sets her stuff down and sees the note, it reads. 

“Dear Mom, I am so sorry for this. I just can’t take it anymore. The real reason I quit theatre and show choir was because I have been bullied. For awhile now actually. I just cannot stand to live another day. They keep telling me it is for the best that I die and I believe that is true. Just now that I did fight. I fought for so long. I truly just cannot continue fighting. Know that I love you and none of this is your fault, I know you are going to blame yourself for not seeing it sooner but I am serious, none of this is your fault. I just can’t continue on. I don’t think I can continue on, I feel numb and like no one wants me. I love you momma never forget that.” By the end Olivia had tears streaming down her face as she ran to the bathroom banging on the door, 

“Y/n! Please stay with me baby please! Open the door Y/n!” Olivia yelled.

 Pulling out her phone she called 911 and busted down the door. As soon as she saw your body laying on the floor she broke. Immediately, Oliva checked for a pulse which was weak but there. 

“Please don’t leave me baby! Hold on baby-girl please! I love you so much sweetheart!” Oliva cried as she began doing CPR. 

The ambulance soon showed up and the took you and Olivia to the hospital. Olivia called Fin and asked to go check your bedroom for anything and bring it to the hospital. Of course Fin immediately jumped and ran when he heard what happened. Fin was still at the precinct when Liv called and Cragen happened to also be there. 

Fin told Cragen everything and the two took off to go to Liv’s apartment then the hospital. Once the found the notes from your classmates and the suicide note they drove to the hospital. Olivia was waiting in the waiting room and when she saw Fin and Cragen she stood up again, on the verge of tears.

“Liv what happened?” Cragen asks looking her. Oliva cleared her through trying not to cry.

 “I uhh had this feeling something was wrong and when I finally got into the apartment I saw umm the note. I ran to the bathroom and the door was locked so I called 911 and broke down the door. She was just laying there *her voice cracks* y/n looked to helpless it broke me.” Olivia explains and starts crying again. 

Fin pulls her in for a hug and they all three just stand there. Olivia walked away to call Rachel your best friend. Rachel Cabot is Alex Cabot’s daughter and your best friend. The two of you have been through thick and thin together. Olivia knew she needed to call Alex and Rachel so they could be here. 

After calling Alex, who said they would be down there soon, Olivia returned to the waiting room where your doctor came walking out. “Olivia Benson?” She asked softly. 

“That’s me” Olivia said standing and walking forward. “Hi! I’m Arizona Robbins. So me and my team were able to pump Y/n stomach and stich up their wounds. They are still asleep and it might be awhile before they wake up but I can take you back to see them if you want” 

“Yes please” Olivia says letting out a breath that she didn’t know she was holding. As soon as they reached your room, Olivia covered her mouth trying not to cry. She sat next to your bed and held your hand, not wanting to let go. 

Hours later you woke up not knowing where you were. Olivia felt you moving and immediately jumped looking at you with a soft smile. 

“Mommy?” You say barley above a whisper. “Yes baby I’m right here” Olivia says wiping the tears away.

~Days Later~ 

You were sitting on the couch reading your favorite book Little Women. “Y/n can I talk to you about something serious?” Olivia asks walking over and sitting on the coffee table in front of you. “What is it?” You ask setting your book down and turning and looking at her. 

“If you don’t want to talk about it I completely understand but, why didn’t you tell me about the notes from the kids at school?” Olivia asks looking at you watching your facial expressions. 

“I don’t know. I just felt like if you saw them you would agree or would tell me I’m just being dramatic and over reacting.” You say trying not to cry.

“Listen to me Y/n; I will always be here for you to talk or just to cry. I don’t ever want you to feel like you can’t come to me. You are my daughter and I never ever want you to feel like I would judge or yell at you. I love you so much baby” Olivia says opening her arms causing you to jump into her arms hugging her. 

“Thank you. I love you too mom” You smile as she tightens her grip around you.

[daltonacademia]

There’s A Time For Daring - 1

charlie dalton x fem!reader [post events of the movie]

word count: 1.7k

warning: allusions to sex / slight sexual harrassment? drinking, mentions of neil’s suicide, horrible parents 

Charlie couldn’t help but emit a low growl as his vomit-inducing, picture-perfect, high-society mother and father, whom he despised, prodded him towards the expansive front entrance of Nealson Preparatory School located in southern Vermont. His fuschia-lipped, cakey-faced mother, Cynthia Dalton, was a well-dressed, dignified housewife by day and charming socialite by night; she was particularly harsh as she trampled his pen-stained oxfords with her spearish kitten heels. His eyes shot daggers at the snow-strewn path below, a familiar fire burning in his core.

There were many things Charlie was tempted to furiously spit out at his parents, but instead, he managed to keep his jaw clamped shut, his pearly whites digging into the light pink of his lips hard enough to draw blood. No matter what he shouted, cried, pleaded, they wouldn’t budge. They never would. And it was infuriating.

“Charles! Being expelled from such a prestigious school is no laughing matter, young man. That school cost us quite the pretty penny! How dare you defy the rules to the extent of expulsion. It’s disgraceful, and I will tolerate it no longer!” Charlie’s mother shrieked, furious tears smudging the thick mascara that coated her eyelashes.

“You’ll be shipped off to Nealson Preparatory School in February, and if I hear so much as a single mention of your name not followed with overwhelming compliments, you can expect nasty, nasty consequences! Go pack your things, you’ll be staying with Aunt Barbara until the first of February finally arrives!” The rims of Charlie’s brown eyes stung with anger, frustration, and furthest down, sadness. He was diminished to nothing but an image-ruiner to his mother. The person who was supposed to love him, protect him, save him from the horrors of this hell called Earth.

Mr. Dalton silently observed the boisterous outburst from his expensive leather armchair across the den, a glass of strong, half-drunk whiskey in his palm. Charlie couldn’t bear to see their despicable faces any longer, and as his body felt no longer under his control, stomped up the stairs in a huff, rapidly swiping away the glassy tears spilling from his eyes. Thoughts of running away, escaping it all, flooded his unstable mind. ‘I get why you did it, Neil. I really do. But did you have to go so soon?’ 

But instead of lingering on the image of Neil any longer, he hastily threw his bare necessities into his suitcase, which was still covered in an array of Welton Academy stickers.

The grounds of Nealson were unsurprisingly well-maintained; it reminded him a lot of Welton. The impeccably manicured lawns, gleaming, icy blue lake, the gothic stone arches and pillars. It was eerily similar to Hellton, even down to the ice-cold blanket of snow coating the distant rolling hills. It’s beautiful, Charlie thought, surveying the slow sprinkling of snow, No, it’s hideous. 

Before he could fully vomit at the vile grounds of his new school, his parents fiercely shoved him inside the Headmaster’s dingy office, politely taking the vacant mahogany seats beside him. Charlie couldn’t be bothered to listen to a word his parents said with pearly white smiles, which were no doubt tooth-rotting, sugar-coated lies about the real reason he was expelled over a month prior. 

He knew that they couldn’t just be transparent and tell the Headmaster that he had socked the utterly vile Richard Cameron’s face in (rightfully so, in his opinion), or that he was a star member of the infamous Dead Poets Society, or that he had gone to the extreme lengths to stage a phone call from none other than God himself. It didn’t work like that. 

His mother’s cheeky, artificial voice sounded precisely the same as it always had: carefully rehearsed and slathered with naivety. Seemingly without hesitation, the catty woman could deflect any less-than-pleasant questions or insinuations about her “golden role-model” son, who’s admittedly “a little misguided at times”. 

The new headmaster seated across from him appeared to be around the same age as Mr. Nolan, which, as far as Charlie was concerned, was older than the Cretaceous period at least. His pale-as-a-ghost skin was wrinkled and paper-thin; his patchy, gelled side-swept hair was (very obviously) dyed a deep, midnight black, reminiscent of an off-brand Elvis. 

Charlie’s ears continued to mute the awkward conversation happening amongst him, his focus instead shifting around to the various awards and certificates lining the ivory walls. They all seemed so phony; ‘Best Headmaster- 1947-1959’, ‘Nealson Academy: Exceeds Expectations’. The Headmaster had even framed his high school superlative: ‘Voted Most Likely to Succeed’. What a pathetic-

In a swift blur, his parents rose from their seats, his mother clutching her magenta purse with matching pursed lips. Charlie was handed a hefty, stapled packet packed full of school rules and guidelines with a denture-toothed smile from Headmaster ‘Campbell’. This’d make some decent kindling, he thought as he yanked the packet from his clammy clutches, leafing through its pages with a smirk, this garbage’s almost laughable.

A syncopated rhythm of raps on the door, followed by a gravelly, ‘come in', presented his new dorm escort. His chauffeur just so happened to be you, the accomplished and universally admired student body president in the same grade as the newcomer. You were dutifully donning Nealson’s horrendous uniform: a crisp, white button-up accented with a blue and silver tie was topped with a depressing grey sweater vest. An equally loathsome pleated skirt concealed your thighs, and your ankles were shielded from the chilly February air with black crew socks. 

You extended your perfectly manicured, soft hand out to your brand-new peer with a yearbook-worthy smile, introducing, “Hi. Welcome to Nealson, I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” You swore you heard the brunette mutter something disrespectful under his breath, but nonetheless, he, rather unprofessionally, shook your hand with an eye roll. Things between the two of you were not starting off the way you hoped, but you were determined to make a good impression. The best impression possible.

“Charlie Dalton,” he replied with a mischievous smirk. The brunette standing in front of you reeked of cigarettes, and there was the slightest smell of cheap beer clinging to his clothes. His brown hair was messy, springing out in every direction, despite the water furiously combed through it. His eyes glinted with rebellion, a look so alluring yet dangerous.

“I’ll be showing you to your dorm, which you’ll sleep in for the remainder of the year.” Since Dalton was starting in February, he only had five months of studying before long-awaited senior year. Mr. Campbell waved the two of you off, and with that, you trekked towards the Boys’ wing, Dalton sauntering at your side. 

The walk through the main corridor was silent and awkward. You had tried to enchant him with fun facts about Nealson and its (extensively selective) history, much to his obvious boredom and dismay. His umber eyes glazed the walls, uninterested in the decor. His mind seemed to be elsewhere, but for all you knew, it could be on the bottom of the Pacific Ocean. 

After a while of treading through the high-ceilinged corridors illuminated with fleeting pale rays of sunlight, the boy next to you made no attempt to hide him drawing designs up and down your body. 

“I’ve never been to a school with both boys and girls,” he drawled with a smirk. “Do things ever get exciting around here?”

You shook your head no while indiscreetly tugging down the hem of your skirt uncomfortably, and he said, “Do you think you’d maybe wanna spend the night with me in my dorm? Make sure I’m all settled in?”

Your whole body, from head to toe, froze. The audacity of this… creep! Your tongue poked, nearly stabbed, the back of your teeth, wanting to unleash a select few words to the disgusting Dalton beside you. But alas, if he were to tell anyone of your fiery wrath, you’d be demoted from class president faster than you could explain what really happened. It’s a corrupt system, sure, but even with the power that comes with such a title, there was no way to mend it.

Eventually, while you were wrapped up in the furies of your mind, Dalton revealed a small, autographed golf ball from his trousers pocket and began throwing it up and down above his head casually with every step. 

“Can you not?” you snapped at the chestnut-haired boy after he tossed the sphere up and down again in an arch. “Don’t wanna get in trouble on your first day, do you?”  

“You think this’ll get me in trouble? Have a little fun, it won’t kill you. I promise.” Dalton turned his gaze towards you, an annoyed but smug grin painted on his lips. He slowly tossed the golf ball to your hands, intending for you to catch it. However, the small ball evaded your grasp, instead bouncing around the hardwood floors below you, creating a series of loud, reverberating thunks.

“You were supposed to catch it, you know,” Dalton teased, nonchalantly watching you chase after the rogue orb. After it was finally safe in your clutches, you stomped over to the no-good newbie, irritated. 

“Nealson’s strict. They don’t let stuff like creating an awful lot of racket go unreprimanded.” You were seething; red-hot blood pumped through your veins. Dalton didn’t look anything but utterly amused.

“Wow, you’re just about one of the biggest suck-ups I’ve seen in a while.”

“A what?” you growled.

“A suck-up. A rule-following poster child of excellence? A bratty, know-it-all? Anything along those lines?” He sputtered insults so nonchalantly, it made your blood boil and eyes sting.

“You better watch it, Dalton. I don’t know who you think you are-”

“I’m the best thing that’s happened to this school, by the looks of it.” 

You had nothing left to say to this conceited shuck of a boy who really thought that he was all that and a side of fries. Well he wasn’t! Not in the slightest! And if his first day of classes wouldn’t drill it into him, you would.

The rest of the walk was pin-drop silent and tense. No more fun facts about Nealson escaped your downturned lips, just the light patting of his beat-up oxfords and your pristine mary-janes on the polished wood floor. The hallways seemed more depressing than usual, their framed portraits and condensated windows didn’t fill you with the motivation that you came to expect.

After finally arriving at the boys’ dormitories, you grumbled, “well, this is it. Have a swell life, Dalton.”

“Right back at ya, Y/L/N. Let’s hope this isn’t the last time we meet.” He gave you a cheeky wink before slamming the door in your face.

[1d1195]

To my followers--old and new

I’m sure those of you that have been following me for a while are shocked that I’m even active still after my sporadic posting the last three years. From the bottom of my heart I want to say sorry for all but abandoning you guys. Once you read below I will follow up with a long half-way decent attempt at an explanation as to why I was gone and why I’m back.

I’ve got a little warning to say about my next story. I will also post it on the actual story when I get around to finishing the first part (which I really do believe will be soon--that’s right, you heard me, first part) but I wanted everyone to be notified ahead of time. So here is the warning:

I’ve never written anything like this next one I’m going to post. I’m not sure what to say. I’ve had this idea in my head for literal years. It’s definitely a TW for depression, suicidal thoughts/actions, etc. I thought it up in my head when I was having an extra rough time a few years back--probably about when I stopped posting so regularly. I never seriously considered ending my life, but I had been very unhappy without any real “reason” to be unhappy and wished I wasn’t alive a lot just a few short years ago. To be totally honest, I still feel this way a lot more frequently than I care to admit. So here I am on tumblr, talking to people who I’m not totally sure are still all there because I don’t even think I would wait around for me at this point.

I can’t really explain why I thought this up, can’t say anything about it is medically or socially accurate in any way, shape or form. I can’t really say why I want to post it now. Or why I want to write it out so I can see it in words.

I think at the end of it all, I really wanted someone to come and save me back then, y’know? And probably more than anything, I wanted Harry to come save me.

I’m always here if you want to talk to me and there are so many resources out there if you are feeling less than the beautiful and wonderful person that you are. If you need anything, please let me know; do not be shy, I like to think I’m back for a good long while and at the very least I’ll try to do a semi-sign off or hiatus warning before/if I leave again.

If you guys still like my writing, I want to be here--I always wanted to all this time I was MIA and I know you all have no reason to believe me, but I promise it’s true. Life just got so busy. It looks like the last time I was semi-active on any regular basis was 2018--when I got my first teaching job. Did you all know I’m currently in my FIFTH year of teaching? I started this blog in 2015--I was fresh out of high school and in my first year of college. I was all but a baby giving out shitty advice that I had no business giving.

Covid was the worst, as I know it was for all of you and probably way worse for a lot of you than it was for me. Teaching has been hell this year. Like I would give anything for a remote/hybrid learning in comparison to this horrible year. June can’t come quick enough--and if you all know me, I hate summer. I had this dream of teaching for so long and every day I wake up and feel like I’m...just broken. There’s no where for me to go anymore. 

So I’m doing what I do best and coming back on tumblr hoping some of you will forgive me and maybe read some of my new stuff (fortunately for you all I do think I’ve become a slightly better writer than I used to be). Over the last week even (?) it’s been a tremendous escape and I’ve missed you all so much.

If you are still reading thank you oh so much. You all mean the world to me. Truly. If you need advice I promise my advice isn’t shitty anymore and I am really so happy to talk to y’all about anything. I’ve missed being here so much. I’ve missed Harry so much. (Which you’ll be reading a lot about in the coming weeks, I think).

I say this with the truest intentions in the world: I love you all a lot and I am happy to chat about anything with you all whenever you need someone to listen to. Thank you so very much for sticking with me.

And to my newer followers, welcome to the show I’m so happy to have you here!

xoxo

Sam

[haikyuuuuuhypeeeee]

Ch. Nineteen

⚠WARNING: Slight mention of suicidal thoughts

• ────── ✾ ────── •

The past few days have not been easy for you.

You’re lying to your friends, fabricating a paper to get out of hanging out with them while in reality you’ve shut yourself in your apartment, wanting to be away from people in general.

Your mind has been replaying the last disastrous conversation you had with Osamu in his apartment. The scathing remarks about his friends and family back home. The anger and disdain he held for you. The staggering accusation he flung at you.

Not to mention the idea of Osamu, holing up in his apartment like you, believing that he’s alone and no one wants him.

Those thoughts, plus the tremendous guilt you still feel from Osamu’s words, has made functioning as a human nearly unbearable.

It’s been two days since that confrontation, and you’re just now able to drag yourself out of your depressive state and out of your bed. You check the time, wincing at the late hour, knowing that your sleep schedule is fucked thanks to the restless naps you’ve taken the past few days.

Part of your brain tried to persuade you to stay in bed, burrow further under the covers and hide from the world. Another part of your brain didn’t care what you did just as long as you ceased existing (it’s a very small part that only pipes up when you’re at your weakest.)

But the loudest part of your brain told you to get up, take a shower, have some food and then you could go back to bed. And honestly that voice was trying to compromise with you. It’s funny how you have these conversations with yourself, as if you’re two or three different people negotiating for what you should do and what’s best for you. It’s easy to get trapped in these negotiations and you’re grateful for the people in your life who can pull you out of your head and even help you understand that all of the “people” in your head really don’t have all of your best interests.

As you drag on clothes after your shower, your phone rings from it’s spot on your bed. Oikawa’s name flashes on the caller ID, and you take the call.

“Hey Oikawa.”

“Y/N-chan! How’re you? I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever!”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Oh you don’t have to apologize, honey. I’m just worrying about you. And besides, we’ll see each other tomorrow.”

You pause while putting on your socks. “Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m calling. We should talk about when we’re going to the shrine - I talked to Iwaizumi-san and she told me that they’re going earlier in the morning.”

You completely freeze in your movement, socks long forgotten. You pull your phone away from your ear to check the date - July 2nd.

Tomorrow is July 3rd. It’ll be six months since Hajime passed away, and the entire shrine visit and picnic lunch will be tomorrow.

And you’ve completely forgotten about it.

You’d been so wrapped up in your own thoughts and worrying about Osamu that the date had completely slipped your mind.

“Y/N-chan? Are you there?” Oikawa says through the phone. You realize you’ve been mute for the past minute. But instead of answering, you burst into loud, ugly sobs.

“Y/N! Are you okay?! What’s wrong?!”

“I’m s-sorry!” You hiccup. “I completely forgot about Hajime’s anniversary. I can’t believe I forgot!” Another sob bursts from your chest and you bring a hand up to try to stop your tears. “I’m the fucking worst!”

“No no, don’t say that.” Oikawa tries to say over the phone.

“What kind of person forgets the anniversary of their best friend passing away?!” You cry, sobs echoing in your empty bedroom.

Oikawa shushes you. “Babe, it’s okay. Honestly.” His voice is soothing and calming and you feel yourself relaxing, despite the small cries that still come out. “You are not a bad friend, I can attest to that. It’s okay if you forgot, it doesn’t make you a bad friend. It’s better than being fully obsessed with that and that alone.”

Your sobs peter out and you’re sniffling through the phone. “I’m sorry though, I shouldn’t have forgotten.”

“Besides, you’ve probably been really busy with Osamu, no?”

There’s a hint of teasing coming from Oikawa, probably an attempt to cheer you up and make you feel better. But all it does is remind you of the state of your maybe-friendship with Osamu and you can’t help but start to cry again.

“Oh don’t cry, I’m sorry Y/N-chan! I didn’t mean to make you upset!”

“It’s not your fault,” you say through your tears. “I think Osamu h-hates me!”

You hear Oikawa gasp. “No, what?! What happened?”

You sniffle. “It’s all fucked up Oikawa.”

“Y/N, tell me everything.”

Through your shaking voice and many breaks for tears, you tell Oikawa the story. The entire story - you explain that Osamu isn’t a friend from class but he had Iwaizumi’s old phone number and you’d been texting it on and off since Hajime passed. And how you two became friends after meeting in the cafe but Osamu now thinks he’s been a substitute for Hajime and he doesn’t want to see you again. You also recount meeting his friends from high school at the cafe after staking the place out, and how desperately they want to see him and the tattered relationships Osamu has with people back from home. You finish your story tearfully with the awful conversation with Osamu and how he kicked you out of his apartment.

“I’m worried Oikawa,” you say through tears again. “And I don’t know what to do. I haven’t tried to call him or text him because he was so angry but I’m so worried about him, and his friends are here and -”

“Y/N, Y/N, breathe.” Oikawa interrupts you easily but gently. “I need you to take a deep breath for me.”

You do as he says, inhaling and exhaling deeply. Your breath hiccups on the inhale but the motion slows down the train of thoughts in your head.

“You said the last time you saw Osamu was two days ago, right? And you think he was drunk?”

“Yes,” you reply miserably over the phone.

“And he doesn’t have a roommate?”

“No, he lives alone.” You pause. “Why?”

Oikawa doesn’t answer straight away. You’re pondering asking why again when he finally speaks.

“You need to go over to his apartment now.”

Your misery is wiped away at the urgency in his voice. “Wait, what?”

“Think about it,” Oikawa says quickly. “He’s alone, he’s been drinking, and to me it sounds like he’s going through a mental breakdown. I don’t think he should be alone.”

His words finally click in your head, and the realization makes your stomach drop. You stand to your feet, the sickening implication clearing your head. “Oikawa, do you think -”

“I don’t know Y/N-chan, but you need to get over there.” You hear rusting on his end. “I can meet you there but it’ll take me longer to get there than you.”

“Okay, okay,” You rush to your front door, slamming your feet into shoes.

“It’s gonna be okay, Y/N.” Oikawa says. You know he’s trying to sound calm and collected but you can hear the slight edge to his voice.

“I’m leaving now.” You grab your keys, hang up the phone and fly out the door. Before you put your phone away you shoot off a quick text message.

• ────── ✾ ────── •

A/N: 😬😬😬 Thank you for reading!

Taglist Open! Please send an Ask with the request to be added to It’s [Not] Okay Fic & SMAU (bold cannot be tagged): @psycho-nightrose @camcam1617 @kamalymaly @toobsessedsstuff @shookykookie30 @roro-707 @qualitygiantshoepsychic @cerealfrdinner797 @ara-mitsue @gray-444 @tanakasimpcorner @rintarovibes @jellien @everytimeswift @bongofrito @babucrow @beidouluvr @kozuken-ma @imarriedachef @badkarma-a @reina-de-tay

[goffilolo]

Revival of Midoriya Izuku: Chapter 4 "My depression may be chronic, but my ass is iconic"

I bet you didn't think you were ever gonna see an update. well neither did I. What can I say? writing with a broken hand is a struggle.

Link to the fic on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16929483/chapters/81090403

Izuku’s first day of high school was interesting, to say the least, or it would’ve been if he actually went to school instead of spreading mayhem amongst UA’s first years. Shinjuku Metropolitan has been rather lenient in regards to his attendance or lack of thereof, thanks to whatever bullshit Shin wrote to the school on his behalf to ensure that the faculty would accommodate his ‘condition’. Which is just fancy wording for ‘I got a get out of school card’. Truth be told, this is probably the best thing that the doctor has ever done for him since Izuku was nowhere near ready to return to mainstream education, not after everything that has happened in middle school. The last thing he needed were looks of pity and guilt-induced niceties from people who otherwise had no problem laughing at his misfortune.

So instead Izuku has decided to spend his time productively - if you could count tormenting your ex-childhood friend and having an accidental family reunion as such.

Uncle Shouta always had a bit of a mean streak to him, although it never really felt as such when Izuku himself interacted with him. From what little of his childhood he could remember that didn’t involve trauma and discrimination, his uncle was a somewhat kind, but grumpy man. He believed in a brand of tough love - that somehow did not correspond with the way his mother raised him in the slightest and went above and beyond for things and people he held close to his heart. Sure they haven’t seen each other since Izuku was 4, but if his uncle’s empty threats from today’s Quirk Apprehension Test are anything to go by, not much has changed.

Which brings him back to now; sitting in an empty classroom that he does not belong to - a school that he does not belong to, writing down his ever-so-detailed notes about the quirks he will only be able to admire from afar. Not much has changed , indeed.

It almost feels like a betrayal. Almost , being the operative word, because he has no reason to cling onto the things that he no longer cares about - should no longer care about, for they had died along with him that day on the roof, and were properly buried within the four walls that Izuku called his own during his stay in the hospital.

But well...looks like today Izuku is in a mood to dig up old corpses.

Metaphorically, that is.

“God, you’re still here!”

“Kacchan we’ve talked about this” he replied, rather dramatically “God is dead and all that’s left is me”

Kacchan clearly did not appreciate his superior sense of humour, if the lack of response is anything to go by. “No seriously, why are you still here?”

“I could ask you the same”

“I actually study here you fuckwit!” the blond exclaimed in his ever explosive fashion “Besides I had to come back and get my change of clothes since that demonic pet of yours was sitting on them when we were all leaving for the test”

“Huh, that actually reminds me...where’s Bandit?”

“Oi, don’t change the subject you shitty Deku” replied Bakugou, as he kicked one of the chairs over towards the desk that was currently occupied by Izuku and slumped down in it in a way that would perhaps appear as non-caring to absolutely no one “I didn’t know your uncle was a pro-hero.”

Ah, so that’s what he was bothered about.

“That makes the two of us”

“Wait, really?!”

“Honestly Kacchan! Did you really think that IF I knew my uncle was a pro-hero that I would be able to ever shut up about it?”

“No way in hell!”

“Exactly!”

Well, now that the topic of his uncle has been cleared up, there wasn’t much else to talk about, at least not much that wouldn’t result in collateral damage or a Bakugou shitshow 2.0. Both of the boys were well aware of it of course, but let it never be said that either of them could be stopped by things like common sense, especially when it came to avoiding conversational land mines.

“So...what are you scribbling over here?” asked Bakugou in a rather poor and possibly the most awkward attempt at establishing small talk that has ever been known to man and sheep kind alike.

“Ok, no! That is not happening” snapped Izuku, who very much saw where this was going and was having none of it “We are NOT having a civil conversation!”

“Why the fuck not?!” replied the blond, his anger as booming and apparent as his quirk.

“Because that is not something we DO Kacchan!” shouted the teen, banging his hands against the desk, his notebook long forgotten.

“Well, maybe we should?!” exclaimed Bakugou, who was quick to anger, yet quicker to notice his ex-friend’s unusual mood as he tried to make an effort to de-escalate the situation.

“Oh? Should we really? !” sneered Izuku, feeling the kind of anger and disdain he hasn’t felt in a long time, not since that fateful day in the ward.

“That’s rich coming from you” he continued as he stood up form the chair, unable to keep still in his fury as he circled the classroom “All you ever did was shout at me, insult me and throw baseless accusations at me left and right for god knows how long, but suddenly YOU want to have a conversation with me? Isn’t it enough that we kinda talked about our feelings that one time when I was still stuck in the psych ward?!”

Honestly, what do you expect Kacchan?” asked Izuku, feeling raw and hysteric and all kinds of wrong, spilling his metaphorical guts to his ex-bully/friend “That we will just start having normal conversations like nothing ever happened, act like we’re friends or some shit? Because let’s be honest, we haven’t been friends for a very long time, that ship has sunk long before I even attempted suicide! ”

“Don’t you think I know that?!” screamed Bakugou, feeling equally angry, but mostly out of his depth in the situation. He expected Deku to possibly mock him for his awkward attempts at small talk. What the blond didn’t expect was for him to snap, in a way that was somewhat familiar but not quite, as even the few times they’ve spoken back when Izuku was in the hospital or when he got released, his tempter felt controlled in a way it was not at the moment. Katsuki wasn’t sure what exactly triggered such a strong response, but he was not looking forward to having another fight, at least not one initiated by him.

“I’m not trying to pretend it didn’t happen” he explained “I just want to move forward. I’m not the same asshole I was last year and neither are you, so I don’t want to be stuck on how things used to be ! It makes me feel like I’m going nowhere.”

“Ok! Fine! You wanna talk?! Then let me fuckin TELL you something! You asked me what I was ‘scribbling’ over here?” exclaims Izuku, as he stomps his way back towards the desk and snatches his notebook, waving it aggressively in front of Bakugou “IT’S THE SAME STUFF I’VE BEEN SCRIBBLING THE ENTIRE GODDAMN TIME!” he screamed “Those quirk analysis notebooks you used to mock me for? It’s another one of those because as it turns out  I still AM the same asshole I was last year! Now then, can YOU tell ME how many of those I’ve had?”

“Thirteen…” mutters Bakugou, feeling like he’s walking into a proverbial trap.

“Good boy, you can count! Now, can you tell me what number does it say on this one?” sneers Izuku sarcastically as he points once again at the notebook in question.

“Is this a trick question? There’s fuckin nothing on it”

“EXACTLY! And you want to know why?” screamed the distressed teen, no longer feeling angry, but tired and vulnerable, unable to stop himself from having a conversation he didn’t even want to be a part of “Because these notes used to serve a purpose, a purpose I no longer have. Hero Analysis for the Future , to be exact. But guess what Kacchan…” he whispered, no longer looking at the red eyes that used to bring him so much pain “...I no longer have a future…”

The blond hung his head in shame as he listened to his childhood friend break down in tears while hiding his face behind the very notebook that started their argument, all the while Trash Bandit who woke up due to their screaming was trying to get his owner’s attention with pathetically quiet ‘baaah’s.

“You have the right to be angry with me, after all this shit I put you through” stated Bakugou after what felt like an endless silence broken only by Izuku’s stuttering sobs. He never thought of himself as a coward, but at this moment he could not find enough bravery to sit face to face with the crying teen.

“I KNOW that you shithead-” replied Izuku as he shakily tried to take a breath in between the sobs “-but what good is that gonna do?! You’ve actually admitted that the way you treated me was wrong, hell you even voluntarily went to therapy! You’re basically going through a whole-ass redemption arc and what do I do? * sob * I’m still stuck in the past and I can’t let go of my grudges, which isn’t doing me or you any favours. I’ve told you to get your shit together, and this is exactly what you’re trying to do and instead of being h-* hic *- happy for you I’m mad-”

His rant broke off as he took another breath with tears still rolling down the freckled cheeks despite the boy’s best efforts. Izuku slumped down in his seat and with shaking hands he took out a cigarette and lighter from his backpack that was still hanging by the hook on the side of the desk. And although putting the cigarette in his mouth was relatively easy, lighting it was another matter. As Izuku grew more frustrated with the quiver in his hands, so did Bakugou. The blond became impatient as he grumbled “give it here damn it” much more quietly and gently than he normally would’ve done as he leaned forward, all the while grabbing the other teen by his shoulder with one hand, as he used to the other to quickly light the cigarette with a small explosion. Izuku’s flinch at the sudden but familiar noise and heat did not go unnoticed.

To say that Izuku was shocked by his ex-friend’s action would’ve been an understatement, but he was pleased nonetheless. If anything it proved his point that Kacchan was trying to be nicer to him, even if the attempts were somewhat awkward. The freckled teen, feeling only marginally better, leaned back in his chair facing the ceiling as he continued to blow circles of smoke up into the air, trying to regain his original train of thought.

“You’d think they would have a fire alarm in here or something” mused Bakugou as he stared at the disappearing circles.

“Hmm” replied Izuku, absentmindedly “You’d think”

The silence has once again stretched between the 2 boys, although this time it felt less oppressive in its need to be filled. Bakugou was happy to wait for Deku to finish what he started, it was the least the blond could do seeing as he was at fault for the current state of things between them.

“I’m so fuckin angry...” stated Izuku as he crashed the burnt out cigarette against the desk, which Bakugou conviniently ignored seeing as the desk was his. “I’m so fuckin angry-” he repeated despite his tone and words not matching at all “-because this proves that you could’ve gotten your shit together this whole time” he continues while gesturing vaguely between the two of them.

“You could’ve stopped this bullshit and apologised to me!” exclaims Izuku in a tone that is half resigned and half accusing “You could’ve spared me the misery, and yet you didn’t. I feel like I’ve suffered for nothing-”

“You did!” interrupted the blond.

“What?”

“You’ve suffered for nothing” clarified Bakugou “There’s literally NO good reason for you to have gone through even half the shit you did”

“I dunno about that Kacchan” teased Izuku “I’m pretty sure the reason is sitting right in front of me”

“I said no good reason damn it, don’t go around twisting my words you fuckin Deku!”

And Izuku couldn’t help but break out in laughter, because he was pretty sure that this was the first time ever that Bakugou had made a joke at his own expense and this moment was going to live in his brain rent free from now on.

“Oh God, Kacchan-” he wheezed, trying to stop himself from laughing “You were right, you really aren't the same asshole that you were last year!”

“I sure fuckin hope not” replied Bakgou who was just as close to laughing “Otherwise I would’ve had to demand refund for all of those shitty therapy sessions”

“Look at us Kacchan” said Izuku, his laugh now subdued “We’re still a fuckin mess”

“I guess we are” agreed the blond as he stared down at his friend’s notebook in a thoughtful expression.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

After the truthfully embarrassing heart-to-heart with Kacchan, Izuku wanted to do nothing more than sink into the void for the next eternity, or at least until he gets his reminder text that he’s running late for yet another therapy session. Unfortunately neither of these options were viable seeing as he was on a self-appointed mission to catch up to his uncle. The boy hoped that uncle Shouta would still be somewhere on the premises seeing as his ugly-ass sleeping bag was still in the classroom. Izuku used that to his advantage as he gave the sleeping bag to Bandit who promptly sniffed it and began to follow the scent of a premature-midlife-crisis. Who knew that sheep could make such good hounds?

Bandit had dutifully led their owner through an ever inconvenient maze of corridors, which eventually ended with the two entering the teacher’s lounge like they had every right to be there (which they kinda did, shoutout to Nedzu!). As expected, Izuku’s uncle was in the lounge, surrounded by fellow members of staff as they tried (unsuccessfully, at least by Izuku’s standards) to get any information out of him regarding his class this year. Uncle Shouta for the most part looked like he’d rather be doing anything else and so Izuku has made an executive decision to insert himself obnoxiously into the situation.

“In my humble opinion-” he said, as he sat down next to his uncle, while Bandit jumped up on his lap “that Mineta kid should’ve been expelled. Like, we get it uncle, he has potential ” continued Izuku, as he spat the word distastefully “But how far is that potential gonna get him when all he does is harass the entire female population, like every other mediocre straight guy with self awareness of a sea cucumber?”

“A sea cucumber? Really?” asked uncle Shouta, sounding like the unimpressed bitch that he is.

“I mean don’t get me wrong” he continues, completely ignoring the unnecessary commentary “Straight people are already embarrassing as they are, but this guy is on another level, the kinda level that usually leads to a straight jacket, am I right?! Hah- I just made a pun!”

“The little listener does have a point, Shouta” replied Present Mic.

“Also, did he just say uncle ? Shouta, is there anything you’d like to tell us?” asked Midnight, you know, like a traitor.

“No”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

It wasn’t until they walked past the gates of the school that his uncle finally stopped in his tracks to voice at least a portion of the questions that have been bubbling in his mind since the impromptu family reunion with his nephew.

“Izuku” says Shouta, with as much concern as an uncle-who-you-haven’t-seen-in-almost-a-decade is allowed to voice “What the fuck?”

“Look, I heard that question far too often in my lifetime, mostly from my therapist, so you’re gonna have to be a bit more specific” replies Izuku sounding like the unimpressed bitch that he hopes to evolve into through the sheer power of genetics and generational trauma.

“Look kid-” says the hobo looking man that has the privilege of being related to Izuku as he puts his hands together, takes a deep breath and prays to whichever God he believes is not yet dead for some guidance on how to handle this “-as much as I’d love to elaborate on the sheer amount of confusion I am experiencing right now due to your questionable way of life, I do actually have to go on a patrol so this conversation is gonna have to be postponed. In the meanwhile give your mother my regards, and I’ll hopefully see you in the near future when you decide once again to wreak havoc in my classroom.”

“No” replies the freckled teen in a total disregard for other people’s prior engagements, thus truly earning his title of a problem child.

“What do you mean no ? Izuku, I have a job to do!”

Instead of replying, Izuku has decided to simply pull a pro-gamer move, by quickly taking out a familiar pair of handcuffs from the side pocket of his backpack, cuffing one side to his uncle’s hand and the other to his own. That on its own is probably not particularly impressive, however it is the speed of the action that has earned it the title of a pro-gamer move, which Izuku is quite proud of. His uncle on the other hand is definitely less so, looking at his cuffed wrist like it has somewhat betrayed him.

“Please tell me you did not just do that”

“I did not just do that”

After wasting about 10 minutes of his life on fruitless struggle of trying to get the handcuffs off like an untrained dog trying to chew off its own leash, Aizawa Shouta; the underground hero Eraserhead, the infamous Erasure Hero has slumped in defeat, internally swearing to himself to one day get revenge on his unruly nephew.

“God, I am so going to have a talk with my sister about this” he says, as if a threat of authority had any meaning to the green headed teen.

“Yeah, no shit, that’s the whole point, we’re going to my house now” replies the teen, completely disregarding any attempt at ‘ an adult asserting their authority ’ over him.

“I still have to go on a patrol tonight” repeats Shouta, as if it was somewhat relevant.

“That sounds like a you problem”