#he said sounds like you have bipolar

[brodieland]

.˚ 𓈒 ࣪.➳𝝑𝝔 Can we finally call a Truce? ´ˎ˗

Percy Jackson x Fem!Hades!Reader Synopsis: Percy finally takes you on that date, who would've thought he was so romantic !!! Warning(s): some swearing Word Count: 2930 A/N: felt like adding some social media into this one, ignore all there faces, imagine whoever you want for the photos

╰➤ MASTERLIST pt4

The shower is your thinking spot. You think about anything. You think about your day, things you have to do, what you're gonna eat later, basically anything. Except now, all you could think about was Percy. The more you think about it, the more you realize how much time you've actually spent thinking about him in the past. Maybe not the way you are right now, mostly just pranking, but still. After about half an hour of standing in the water thinking of Percy, it's time to get out.

After hopping out, and changing into some clothes, you head to your room. You decided to check if you had any messages on your phone. Instead, you found a mention on Instagram from Percy.

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＠seaweedbrain • 20 min

Liked by wisegirl and others.. ＠seaweedbrain: why is this lady invading my motherland?? ＠StyxGirl View comments..

＠wisegirl: she's added the flare you can't →＠seaweedbrain: ＠wisegirl its literally my home?? →＠wisegirl: ＠seaweedbrain whats your point???

＠deathboynicoo: saying she's invading ur space after asking her out is crazyy😭👋 →＠seaweedbrain: ＠deathboynicoo maybe im bipolar?? what happened to mental health matters?? →＠deathboynicoo: ＠seaweedbrain you actually wanna be me so bad holyy🤦 →＠wisegirl: @deathboynicoo HE WHAT?? HELLO??

＠StyxGirl: when did you get these pictures of me you actual stalker →＠seaweedbrain: ＠StyxGirl she want mee🤭 →＠BeaurengardOnTop: ＠seaweedbrain me and my mama stay plotting on yall‼️

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After laughing and going through Percy's comments, you decided to FaceTime Silena and Annabeth. They pick up immediately.

"Y/N" Annabeth and Silena shouted.

"Hey guys" you said calmly, sticking out your tongue.

"Erm, explain??" Said Silena. And you did. You explained everything that happened, starting from when you pulled him out of class, all the way till when Nico sadly interrupted the two of you. He was never gonna let you live that down and you knew it. By the time you were finished their eyes were WIDE.

"Bro Nicos so funny" Annabeth was laughing so hard at that fact Nico pulled you out of Percy's grasp. "Love that kid."

"No cause let me catch him with Will" you said, making to two on the phone laugh even harder. "Let's see whos laughing then!"

After everyone caught their breathes, Silena spoke up. "So tell us, what's happening on this little date." Silena was wiggling her eyebrows as she spoke.

"Well, I actually don't know yet-" you cut yourself off when you saw a text from Percy. "Speak of the devil he just texted me."

"Well what does it say" Annabeth demanded.

'Meet me at my dorm tomorrow at 5. Wear something nice.'

"His dorm at 5. He said wear something nice" you read aloud.

"What a little romantic" Silena said.

"Gods, you and Percy are my favorite show right now" Annabeth said.

"Heyy, thats what my mom said" Silena shared happily.

"Alright guys I'm gonna go now, night night" you said

"Goodnightt" Silena and Annabeth said simultaneously.

After hanging up the phone you remembered to text Percy back before putting your phone down. You decided to grab your laptop and watch some Netflix. After a few episodes of Gilmore Girls, you accidentally dozed off without realizing.

[12:06] AM

You woke up to the sound of your phone vibrating next to you. You picked it up to check the caller ID. 'water boy.' At this hour?

"Percy?" You answered groggily.

"Oh, did I wake up, sorry I'll go" Percy apologized.

"Wait no, no. It's fine, whats up" you quickly spit out. You were now sitting up in your bed.

"Oh um, I just can't sleep, so I wanted to come over. Like last time you know" Percy asked. You smiled at the request.

"Sure Percy," you were kinda warm. "I'll be waiting." And with that you both hung up the phone. Ten minutes pass by and you get a text from Percy.

'Hey I'm here, I didn't want to wake up Nico or something.'

Without responding you, you quickly put your phone down and speedily, but quietly, ran toward the door and swung it open.

"Someones excited to see me, aren't they" Percy laughed as he walked inside.

"Hey you're the one who wanted to come over" you pointed out as you started walking to your room with Percy trailing behind. "Someone wanted a little sleepover" you started to tease.

"And you're the one who let me wake you up and insisted I came over." You stopped in your tracks, turning around to stare at Percy with your jaw on the floor. "Like you just had to ask, no need to twist my arm about it."

"Okay lets just get to my room buddy" you said as you continued to make your way back to your room.

"To your bedroom already? Buy me a drink first maybe" You let out an exasperated sigh.

"Your minds in the gutter. And let's be honest," you turned your head around to look up at Percy "you wouldn't need me to get you a drink to get you in that bedroom." You jokingly threw a flirty wink and made your way to your bedroom, almost leaving behind a flustered Percy. You jumped into your bed and Percy followed next to you.

"Anyways I'm tired come here." Percy said as he pulled you into his embrace, making you laugh. You wrapped your arms around before you looked at him.

"Wow, you really came over to sleep in my bed with me" you said.

"Well of course, why? Did you think I came over for something" Percy smirked at you. You rolled your eyes before snuggling in closer.

"No I didn't, now go to sleep water boy" you said into his chest.

Percy kissed the top of your head before saying goodnight. The both of you were out and started dreaming of each other.

[11:19] AM

When you woke up, you noticed you were alone again. You were sad until you turned over and saw a note lying on your nightstand. AW, Percy wrote you a note with your pink glitter pen. It said

'Sorry to just leave you alone, you seemed so peaceful I didn't want to wake you. I left to go set up for later, see you later styx girl ;)'

You held the note up and smiled as you read it. Styx girl was something he came up with back at camp. You hated him but the name was catchy so you didn't mind it. After finishing you put the note back down and headed out to the kitchen and found your amazing brother, Nico, making two smores pop tarts.

"I hope one of those are for me" you said.

"Oh of course your hungry" um, rude?

"I literally just woke up, what with your attitude kid?"

"No attitude. Here" he threw you one of the pop tarts and you just barely caught it mid air.

"You couldn't just leave it on a plate?" You looked at him wide-eyed as he almost just socked with you a pop tart.

"I definitely could've" he looked at you with a face saying, 'but why would I do that when I could smack you with a pop tart.'

"Okay.." you started to walk away and sat in the living room of your dorms common area. After you finish slumming down your pop tart you start slouching down on the couch and scroll through your phone.

"So Y/N," Nico stared as he creeped on over to the couch. "Do you think you could just sleep over at Percy's tonight?"

You looked up at Nico to see if he was joking but he was looking at you straight faced. "Excuse me" you asked happily, knowing why he made the request.

"You're excused" he said. You continued to stare at him till he said what you wanted to hear. And he knew what you were waiting for too. "Wills sleeping over."

"Of course I can leave the lovebirds alone!" You said as you let out a toothy, close-eyed grin. Nico just rolled his eyes and scoffed as he walked off, annoyed by his sisters teasing.

'Knock, knock'

Who could that be?

"It's Annabeth and Silena, OPEN UP" Annabeth yelled as she banged on the door. You groaned and yelled back at her as you went to open the door before it was knocked down.

"No need to break down my door, I'm right here" you said as you stepped aside to let the girls in.

"We wanted to borrow you before that little boy does" Annabeth joked.

"A little girls day, if you will. Plus we could help you get ready perhaps" Silena said.

"Alright, alright. I think I might have some face masks or something we could do." You said. You and the other two girls spent the day gossiping and just relaxing as the day flew by.

[4:43] PM

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＠StyxGirl • 10 min

Liked by seaweedbrain and others.. ＠StyxGirl: feeding my girls before I forced them to help me get ready😛 ＠wisegirl ＠BeauregardOnTop

＠BeauregardOnTop: stop acting like you didn't want us there😘 →＠wisegirl: ＠BeauregardOnTop can we talk about her taking credit for our idea for coming over?? →＠StyxGirl: ＠wisegirl no bc its not even that srs lets take it down a notch

＠seaweedbrain: yoo that girl in the last pic kinda fine who is that?? →＠deathboynicoo: ＠seaweedbrain bro this shit is NOT rizz💀 →＠seaweedbrain: ＠deathboynicoo shut tf up maybe?? →＠StyxGirl: ＠seaweedbrain hey😁 im on my way😁😁 →＠deathboynicoo: ＠StyxGirl your still going after he spoke like that to your beloved brother?? →＠StyxGirl: ＠deathboynicoo didn't you want the dorm to yourself or am I going crazy?? →＠deathboynicoo: ＠StyxGirl stay safe❤️

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You put your phone in your pocket and kept walking out to Percy's dorm. You couldn't help but smile on your way over, you couldn't believe it. Percy was setting up a date for you, you. You still couldn't stop thinking about what he said when you guys were out at the beach riding the hippocampi. How he said he should've taken you out before you guys started hating on each other. Is this something he had thought about for a while? Did he always think you were cute or something. Well if he did, it didn't show. Ha.

You kept thinking as you finally made it to Percy's dorm, and you thought it would be funny if you did it again. And by it, you meant banging on the door till there was a hole in it. Though, before you could hit the door a second time, Percy was already opening it.

"Let's calm down with that fist of fury now shall we" Percy said as he took your hand in his. "Follow me." Not like you had a choice, since he never let go of your hand and it didn't seem like he planned too. As he dragged you to this date location, you couldn't help but admire Percy. He cleaned up well. That black button down, with the top button undone and with the sleeves rolled up? Wow. You were truly a simple, simple woman.

And finally you made it, the rooftop. It was a relaxing evening. The sunset was beautiful out, the breeze was gently, and after a few seconds, you noticed it. Percy had set up a little picnic that was set on the edge of the roof giving a perfect view of the sky. "Let's take a seat" Percy said.

When you guys sat down you looked inside the basket sitting in between the two of you. Blue. It was filled blue food, mostly sweets, and it all looked so good. "So Percy is your favorite color pink, just wondering" you joked with Percy. He just laughed.

"Blue food is a tradition thing between me and my mom. Thought I'd let you in on it" Percy explained. All you could think was 'aw.' You knew how close him and his mom were. I mean he even he mouthed off your dad, the god of the underworld, to get her home. That's ballsy. You wondered what he'd think about how you've taken a liking to this boy.

"Wow, I feel so special" Percy smiled at you as you took a bite into one of the cookies. "Holy shit. This is so goood" you were basically rolling your eyes to the back of your head as you said this.

"Wow, they look good, but are you sure its cookies? Are you sure you're not hiding anything somewhere?" Percy said as he quiet down and tried to listen for a suspicious noise. It took you a second to understand his joke before you smacked him in the arm with a shocked look on your face.

"Wow! You expect that on a first date! What do you think I am? A blasphemous whore?" You and Percy leaned over on each other, laughing so hard you couldn't breathe. As you both calmed down you spoke up again. "No but really, these are really good."

"It's my moms recipe, I was worried I would mess it up so I made her stay on the phone the whole time I made them." Percy said.

"Aw you called your mom to help you with a date" you said. His little mama's boy side was something you always liked about him. Wait.

"Yeah I did, she's like Annabeth and Silena. Always pestering me about you" you stared at his with admiration.

"You would talk to her about me" You asked, you were probably grinning from ear to ear.

"Of course I told my mom about the girl who was threatening to kill me every few seconds. She even knows about the snake in my bed." you started laughing.

"Well, I'm glad we're both past that." You laid back and looked up at the sky that was now covered in stars. Percy followed after you. "The views amazing."

"Yeah" Percy said in almost a whisper. You turned to you when you realized he was looking at you when he said that. Making you the amazing view.

You playfully smacked his arm and rolled your eyes before shouting out "woow you're soo cornyy" you giggled out. Percy started tickling you viscously.

"Take it back" Percy didn't stop, not even till you were out of breathe.

"Fine, fine, I take it back. You're not corny, you're the most romantic man I've ever met" and with that he finally stopped. Not before getting you to lay relaxingly on his chest. You were now both stargazing and just enjoying each others presence.

"I'm glad we did this" you said.

"Me too" Percy said as he kissed the top of your head. After he did that, you leaned up on rested on your elbows while your head hovered his. That's when Percy brought his hand to behind you neck and pulled you in. You guys started making out softly. As it went on for longer, it got more intense. You swung one leg over and straddled him. Both your hands in his soft hair while hands gripped on your waist. Slowly sliding lower as he gripped on the top of your thighs and pulled you closer..

[8:51] PM

You were sitting up in Percy's bed, in Percy's shirt, scrolling through your phone. Wow, on a roof. Not expected at all. Finally, Percy walked back in the room wearing a pair of sweats and laid down next to you. He looked at you with stars in his eyes. He lifted his hand up and making soft circles on your neck, tracing the newly formed purple spots on it.

"I stand by what I said the other day, you looked good in my clothes. Maybe even better with no pants on" as Percy said that, you took the hand that was tracing circles and threaded your fingers threw it.

"Aw you don't think of me as a blasphemous whore even after doing it on the first date."

"I could never think of you like that."

You slide over and sat on top of Percy again. "AGAIN?" he looked at you with a shocked face, but not actually shocked of course, just messing with you. You softly smacked his chest before laying down and just relaxing. You closed your eyes and just embraced Percy.

You guys were quiet for awhile before Percy asked "soo, what now? What are we?"

"What do you want us to be?"

"I'm not letting you leave this dorm if you're anything less than my girlfriend." Percy started sitting up, making you do so as well. You couldn't believe what you were hearing, maybe just a little. "I let us go around and hate each other for years, I'm not missing my chance again, so please, let me just be your boyfriend."

Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy. SHIT. These few days have been insane. It truly didn't take long for Percy to make you feel things you never would have expected to feel for him in a million years. Who would've thought a night of drinking would've brought you together. Definitely not you.

"I mean if you reallyy want to be, then, yes you CANN be my boyfriend." You were trying your best to finish your sentence without giggling. This second you stopped talking Percy just grabbed your face and kissed you fiercely. You could feel each others smiling as you did so. And suddenly you were back to laying down and Percy was back on top of you.

You now had a boyfriend and his name was Percy Jackson. And you couldn't be happier.

..............................................................................................................................

Did I eat be honest. Maybe pt 5 if the people still want it.

taglist: @ayanazoldyck <3

#percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #percy jackson pjo #percy pjo #percy series #percy jackson fluff #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x you #annabeth chase #silena beauregard #annabeth pjo #silena pjo #nico di angelo #nico pjo

[bunnylove1]

.•His star•.

•.~Valentino x pornstar!reader

•.~WARNINGS: semi smut if you can even call it that, borderline toxicity, cuss words, small mentions of angsty stuff, fluff, mentions of blood and bruising a couple of times, and lastly Val being a dick head as always

•.~Love Val and thought this would be a fun idea!

Clips videos films photos shows, You were popular to the eyes and body’s of the male and female sinners, You didn’t mind all the attention it was your job, it kept you warm at night in a nice room at a somewhat nice apartment …, it wasn’t dirty, but it was sure busy and loud with other sinners making there print in the building 

You worked for Valentino for about a year now , he was a hot headed bipolar mess but he treated you…different from his other employees, he was nicer more sweeter, gave you gifts often, he’d even reward you after shoots with a nice dinner, he’d call you whenever he was pissed, he’d have you sit on his lap and calm him down. He thought you were “The best at calming people down” it was true 

The studio had tons of pornstars that would have panic attacks before and after shoots no matter if they were big or small and if they were violent or not, You were always the one to calm them down, you’ve seen some tuff shit at the studio but it was better then the streets.

Val sent you a text it read “Good morning cariño you’ve got along day a head of ya princess be prepared” knowing Val he was gonna have you working until your body gave out on him and you had to grab onto him to support yourself. You put your phone down not replying to him and just started to get ready, you never got all dressed up knowing that the studio would do that for you, the studio always had you dolled up just to get the makeup ruined and the clothes torn off 

Putting your black sweats on with a regular white tank with a jacket that had your star name on it, it was a gift from Val. You headed your way to the studio, but not without making it past a couple of cat callers, you finally made it. Opening the doors of the studio you were hit with the smell of cheap alcohol and expensive sex, walking to your room at the studio setting your stuff down by your vanity, Val opened your door “Cariño! How lovely of you to make it” he said slinging his bottom arms on his hips letting his other set be crossed under his chest. “Hi val, what do you have planned for me today?” You sat down at the end of your silk bed, the moth took a long drag of his cigarette letting the pink smoke hit your face “You’ve got a shoot at 1, and another at 3, with a film shoot at 4, and another shoot with some guys at 10” you huffed at the sound of a long day.

“Don’t huff at me. You wanted this” he said turning his back away from you looking at your already exhausted face in the big mirror that was faced to your bed. You mumbled some shit under your breath ‘right cause I sooooo wanted my holes to be filled with random peoples cum’ you went to get up and start the long day, “What was that cariño?” You twitched an eye “Nothing sir just ready to start my day” you gave him a painted on smile “Good let’s go the staff is waiting with makeup and an outfit” he said putting a hand on your back guiding you to the place you already know your way too

After the staff had done your make up they gave you a shiny leather body suit with black shiny thighed boots and a chocker they gave you a few props as well as a gag with a white gag ball, a leash and some rope. “Perfect cariño, just like that, I couldn’t just eat you out~, don’t fucking move, perfect darling keeping being a good girl for me, I didn’t tell you to stop posing!” Val yells sitting from his Director chair his legs crossed and his hand under his chin. 

After a long 2 shoots it was finally time for your film, Val told you what it was about, you must play a dumb girl who’s acted out while your partner played a dominate man who teaches you a lesson, how ‘fun’ you thought. Getting into position the film had started to roll, you were already done with the acting role play part and it was time for the actual thing. Your partner grabbed your hips and pulled you close stoping your face an inch away from his, he tightened his grip on you hips, this made you wince, he started to kiss you going down your neck bitting you, he hit a nerve while doing so causing you to jump back and wince at the blood that was dripping down your chest 

“HEY! CUT, CUT, CUT THE FUCKIN CAMERAS!” he said spitting pink spit out of his mouth motioning to stop the film, he stomped over and pulled you to his side with one of his arms and having another over your fresh wound causing you to flinch at the pressure he put on it, “What the FUCK is wrong with you, I SPECIFICALLY told you not to make her bleed! Get. Off. This. Set. NOW!”  He had this one rule with you that you were to never have wounds caused in films, he didn’t care if the others did but he didn’t want you to bleed or have bruises by these partners of yours, he was very pacific with that rule and told everyone of your partners, Val yelled at the actor and pushed him out of his Sight, “cariño, are you okay, let’s get you cleaned up yeah”. Val looked down at you, you went to go walk but your legs felt like jello, Val noticed and picked you up carrying your bridle style to his room your eyes felt heavy very heavy “it’s been a long day cariño~ take a rest” he stated petting your soft hair, you did as he said and rested your eyes 

Once you smelt the sweet linger of smoke you could tell you were in Vals room, your eyes fluttered, taking in the pinks and purples and the smell of smoke, once you could halfway tell your surroundings you sat up, you noticed you were placed on Vals bed and that he wasn’t there, “Val….” You spoke your voice soft with a sleepy drag. 

“cariño, your awake” Val stated sitting on his couch smoking his cigarette. He got up and put is cigarette out walking over to you, he placed a hand on your cheek caressing it, his touch was warm and his hands were soft, you almost forgot what happened in the studio. But not for long till the dickhead poked your wound. “OW VAL YOU FUCK” you jumped now fully awake smacking his hand away from the bit.

“Sorry cariño, I just need to look at it” he looked down at you his voice sweet, “looking at it, you mean by poking the shit out of it?” He chuckled “sweetheart just sit still baby~” he let the last word out smoothly like he was soothing your tense body trying to seduce it, you did as he said. You sat at the end of the bed facing him letting him take the bandages off and grabbing some type of oil, “what’s that” you looked up at him “well my curious conejita, it’s just a healing oil, till help the wound heal faster” he opened the oil putting the cap in his other hand and put some on the wound “SHIT VAL THAT BURNS!” You jumped back “stay still conejita, or else I’ll make it hurt worse” His words were stern as he gripped your shoulder tightly, your eyes light up and looked somewhat scared, you could feel them start to water.

I don’t blame you, your in a vulnerable state and your wound didn’t make it better, why wouldn’t you start to cry especially after he just put I mild threat towards you, “conejita, I didn’t mean it” he sighed sitting at the side of you now, he grabbed your side and put you on his lap, nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck still sniffling some cry’s. “Shhhh conejita it’s okay, I’m sorry mi estrella, I didn’t mean to get so disgusting towards you” he patted your back leaving soothing circles as he went up and down, he had his other hand on your head petting your hair. 

“It’s *sniffle* okay” he frowned at your sweet cry’s. His expressions turns into a smile “how about I treat you mi estrella how about a nice warm bath with me?” You ears pricked up and your slaty tears gone but still a residue left on your sweet face “that would be nice” he smiled and cradled you until you both meet the bathroom, he set you down on the counter of the bathroom sink, he started the bath letting it full up with bubbles, the sweet sent of roses and vanilla hit your nose, your face meet vals again.

“Here mi estrella” he stated wanting you to stand in front of him, you hoped off the counter and stood infront of him, he started to take the shirt you wore off and place it on the counter you couldn’t help but blush as he went to take your underwear off. “mi estrella” he grabbed you face “look at me cariño” you gave him a soft look at you obeyed him “good girl, let’s take a bath now shall we” he helped you in the tub, you sat down in a hot water as bubbles covered your body. He let your body get comfortable before he started to wash your hair, he let his finger tips reach your scalp not to hard to nip your scalp but just enough to make your hair soft with the conditioner.

Val finished washing you and got up to grab a towel and let you wrap yourself in it “wait there princess let me get you some clothes” he left you to stand in the middle of his room, he came back with one of his night shirts and boxers “here let’s get these on, then we’ll go to bed sound good baby” you nodded a sleepy yes to him, Val took your towel and threw it in the bathroom, “hands up cariño” you put your hands up at he put his shirt over your head, he grabbed your arms and pushed them threw the sleeves then getting to the boxers part, he lifted one of your legs then the other and slipped them the rest of the way up 

You yawned and rubbed your eyes, Val couldn’t help but awe at your state “your so  adorable cariño, come here” he picked you up and carried you to bed, laying you down he did the same pulling the covers over the both of you, he pulled you close setting your head on his chest. “Goodnight mi estrella, I love you” he spoke giving you a soft kiss on the top of your head.

conejita -bunny

mi Estrella - my star cariño-darling or sweetheart

YALL BETTER BE SO HAPPY CAUSE I HATE THIS HES SO OUT OF CHARACTER ITS NOT FUNNY 

@snoozewritezz @camilaxmartin @chiiyuzz

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[risustravelogue]

In the psychiatrist's waiting room and thinking about Wriothesley finally finding out what your regular visits to the surface is all about.

cw. mental health issues, specifically bipolar II disorder. contains heavy lore of my s/i (f!reader, she/her pronouns used).

You've told Wriothesley during your job interview that you'd require once-a-month visits to the surface if he were to employ you. He agreed without prying further, much to your relief.

Sigewinne had known from the start, of course—it's her duty to know everything about the people in her care, after all. Yet, she passed your files over to the Duke anyway, because she knew he'd grant you, the most excellent apprentice of Estelle's, this small relief. The only thing she told him was "she needs to maintain her health, but it's out of the scope of my knowledge of human well-being."

He'd lie if he said he wasn't curious about Sigewinne's words, but his need of a mechanic to maintain and improve his gauntlets was greater. And so he stayed out of the issue... until he decides to confess his attraction for you.

He doesn't even try persuading Sigewinne to tell him about your issues, knowing how strict she is with doctor-patient confidentiality. So after a few private investigations, he decides to go straight to the source.

That afternoon, he welcomes you to his office. He sits on his desk with the sound of soft piano—your favorite piece—flowing from his gramophone.

"I need to talk about your monthly visits to the surface," he says, and your gaze goes downward to your shifting feet, your fingers fidgeting behind your back.

Sensing your nervous energy, he smiles and says, "Relax. I'm not going to fire you or anything like that. A small issue like this won't affect what I think about you."

You chuckle derisively. "That's what they all say before rejecting my job application," you say. "And it's not exactly a 'small' issue. It affects everything you know about me."

"Try me," he says, sipping his tea. "Please."

"... I guess you're going to find out sooner or later..." you mumble. You inhale and exhale, your breath trembling in fear of being rejected by him.

"I have... depression. Specifically, bipolar two disorder. That's why I seem more irritable some days and like I've lost interest in everything on others," you blurt out. "I've been on both medication and counseling, so it doesn't stand out too much anymore, but it still gets in the way of my work sometimes. That's why I need to visit my doctor on the surface once a month. Believe me when I said this is not the worst I've been—"

You stop speaking when you realize that your boss is staring at you in sympathy.

"I—I'm sorry. For rambling," you mutter.

"No, no," he says with a sigh. "If anything, I'm sorry for not asking sooner."

"Sure... well. Are you still not going to fire me?" you ask bluntly.

Wriothesley's eyes soften.

"No. Why would I? I love you."

"... What?"

"I love you," he repeats as he steps closer to you. Your heart beats loud and fast from the adrenaline, thoughts racing through your head: screw this, screw everything, if I'm going to lose him, might as well be now—

"I... I don't... My ex dumped me when I told him this," you ramble, tears welling up in your eyes. "You– you're sure? You don't... see me as someone problematic? You don't... hate me?"

His fingers rest on your chin as he lifts your face. You instinctively gasp and close your eyes at his touch, only to feel his soft, warm lips meeting yours in a chaste kiss.

"I'm glad you're able to be honest with me," he says against your lips. His breath smells like the tea he just sipped, and somehow it's so intoxicating this way—

"I love you," he says again, his icy blue eyes now gazing softly into yours. "And I don't mind being a place for you to rest, your home in this foreign country. Will you allow me to be such?"

"Y– you would?" you stutter, the good kind of disbelief flooding your chest with warmth. "I... would love for you to be my home," you say with a grin. "I love you, too."

"Good," he breathes, his arms pulling your body flush against his. You feel your worries melt away as he kisses you in his embrace.

"Very good... my love."

© @risustravelogue 2023 • no to reposting, yes to reblogging. feel free to send an ask to suggest, chat, etc. :)

#astronetwrk #wriothesley #wriothesley genshin #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x you #wriothesley fluff #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #cw depression #cw bipolar #kurisu's thoughts #kurisu writes #wrisu #uhuh yep another waiting room thought hehe

[alzvxs]

“you are like the stars” ft. Portgas D. Ace

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~🪷 a/n: C.ai have been inspiring me WAY to much recently😭. anyways dropping some fluff since not in the mood of hc’s today sorry yall :(!!

~🪷 my masterlist<3

~🪷 SUMMARY: F!reader teases Tired!Ace, by comparing him to the stars at night, while cuddling in your hammock.

y/n: orange text

ace: red text

w/c (word count): 1,208 (short😕)

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my pretty star♥️

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IT was a though day for both of you. WhiteBeard purposely giving tasks to clean the ship, since the whole crew was at the bar all day.

FINALLY it was night. you were laying on your hammock, reading a book. Ace walks in all tired and grumpy from the tasks, which brings a chuckle out of you. Ace tried his best to hide his smile when he heard your sweet little laugh.

“Cmere lay down.”- you said patting your stomach. nothing eased Ace more, than sweet cuddles and you using your sweet voice to talk about everything. isnt he just a pup?

he immediately laid down, burying his head in your stomach, wrapping his strong hands around your chest.

you snickered at him as you ran your fingers in his hair. Ace smiles even more as you run your fingers through his hair. The feeling made him feel like a very content puppy, and you could see his eyes flutter with every stroke of your hand through his hair. His body relaxed as he enjoyed this feeling quite a lot, and you could see one of his hands wrapping around your chest tighter. He lets out a content sigh and leans more into your body, his body warming up slightly from the heat of your hand running through his hair.

“and you deny that you are like a puppy.”- you teased him. he wasnt the type to admit his clingy and follows you around so he can ‘protect’ his woman, but in reality, he just wants to spend time with you.

Ace just rolls his eyes and chuckles again as he responds in a teasing tone.

"I'm not like a puppy at all. Psh. I'm way bigger and more handsome than any puppy could ever be. And I definitely do not enjoy being treated like a cute and adorable little pet, nor do I also enjoy being spoiled by you."

“then get off of me if you dont like it.”- you sounded like a mom, too tired to argue with her teenage daughter. your other hand was turning to another page of your book.

"Hmm... no."- Ace answers you, but he doesn't move to do what you say. His playful and flirty tone makes it seem like he doesn't mind being on you at all, and you can tell he even enjoys playing this game with you. His body stays in its relaxed position as he doesn't see any reason why he would move to get off of you.

“aw, my pretty bipolar princess.”- you replayed to him, a cocky smirk already printing on your face, as you stroked the back of his neck.

Ace sighs softly and relaxes even more when you caress his neck. His body is completely relaxed at this point, and you can tell this is something he is enjoying because of the way his eyes are already starting to shutter a bit more as he gets more and more comfortable with you holding and caressing him.

“you know you are like the stars.”- you broke the silence, trying to be sweet for once. not that you arent already sweet like a lollipop to him, but still.

This sudden confession and compliment makes Ace chuckle and he rolls his eyes before giving you a smug grin.

"Me? Like the stars? You could come up with any cute analogy, and you go with that? You've got to be kidding me."- He chuckles again, but you can see even now he is still relaxed as you caress the back of his neck. He seems as if he isn't going to bother moving from this position, as his tone still remains playful and flirty.

“oh my gosh, im trying to be sweet for once! hear me outttt!!”- you pouted, already annoyed. your reaction just making him laugh more and more.

“okay okay, fine. hehe”- he continued chuckling, but after around a minute calmed down. “you can continue now, sweetheart”

you sighed, continuing your statement. “wanna know why?”

"Sure, I wouldn't mind hearing why you think that. But, don't expect a sweet response from me if you do tell me."

“you are just unbelievable.”

“okay, fine, fine! im stopping. sorry, beauty. continue, please? i wanna hear it, i actually got interested, hehe.”

“because in the day you hide your emotions, all serious and stuff..like the stars. but at night you are relaxed more expressive and more loving..you shine at night..like the stars.”

when he hears your confession (or a little poem idk), he is speechless for a moment when you give him this analogy. In a way, you kind of had the right idea about what his personality was really like. During the day, he was stoic and cold, but when the night came, he was more relaxed and in a way even cuter than he usually is. He eventually smiles softly and chuckles a little.

"I didn't know you were as perceptive as this. Well, let me tell you this. You aren't wrong about me being more relaxed and affectionate at night. But, you aren't allowed to tell anyone else this."

“oh yeah? what if i tell someone?”- you spoke a little bit louder, a cocky smirk appearing on your pretty face.

“im gonna wipe this smirk out of your face!”- he barked back teasingly, his cheeks getting redder and redder.

“how?”

“by..”- he forgot his comeback, which made him only even more embarrassed.- “touché.”- he continued, his lips forming a pouty expression.

you pecked his cheek.- “you can never outsmart a woman, love.”

as much as he hated being defeated, he enjoyed seeing you all cocky and smirk-ish, cuz of your win. when you pecked his cheek, he closed his eyes and smiled goofy.

The night continued with both of you talking about the future, books, music, the ocean and etc. overall he is in cloud nine with you. after all every star needs their moon, innit? well you were his moon, and heck..he never was more happy. he wouldnt trade you for the world. he loved his moon way to much..his little precious moon..the best moon..the only moon for him was you..and no one else.

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i hope yall enjoyed♥️ (follow for more :3)

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#one piece #spotify #portgas d ace #portgas ace x reader #portgas ace x you #portgas ace fluff #one piece fluff #one shot #portgas ace x y/n #fanfic #one piece x you #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece anime

[joelswritingmistress]

You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 52

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible. 

Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader 

I felt my heart break a little. Despite the danger and the fear and the anger, the look on Carol’s face made my stomach ache. She didn’t know if she did the right thing by pulling the trigger. She looked a combination of remorseful, sad and afraid.

“I forgive you,” Will wiggled his fingers at her again. “You’re in a weird position, Carol. I know. I forgive you, honey.”

Carol glanced toward Dr. Miller and me.

“Take the safety off!” Her brother choked out, raising his voice fully for the first time. “Carol!”

Will lunged forward and Carol shrieked as he gripped her arm, twisting it just enough to free the weapon from her hand. This was about the same time that Chas began his stealthy, methodical walk in their direction. He didn’t make a sound.

“He’s right,” Will shrugged, pointing the gun at his bride-to-be. “I’m nothing if not careful.” He ran a hand through his hair and his personality suddenly went bipolar as he shouted, “Fuck!” It made me jump and Chas stopped short as he walked toward Will from behind.

“Will, just talk to me, honey.” Carol played along, never once looking at her father over his shoulder. “Please tell me what’s going on.”

“I didn’t want to involve you in all this, Carol.” Will shook his head, sucking his teeth in frustration. “You and I were supposed to make it out of this. Live happily ever after.” He eyed the ceiling and shook his head, still pointing the gun at her. “What the hell made you come down here?” He then shouted again, “Why?”

Carol jumped and put her hands out in front of her. “I wanted to see you.” She swallowed hard, “I was lonely and I thought you were at the bar. When you weren’t, I took a chance on coming down here.”

Will let out a loud, deep breath. “You pulled the trigger.”

“I don’t know why I did that.”

“But you did.. that.”

“I know,” Carol went on, “And I’m sorry, Will. I really am.”

“I love you. I really do love you, Carol. I wanted us to be together, to work through this.”

“Work through what exactly?” Her voice was shaking, “What did you do? Tell me everything. Please, what did you do?”

Chas closed in. I watched the events unfold like a movie. I couldn’t move. My body was a shivering, frozen mess. I felt exactly that. Frozen.

Will cocked back the gun with his thumb and this time all other emotions exited the frame and fear was left on Carol’s face.

“I regret having to do this,” Will told her. “On the night before our..” He glanced down to the side and suddenly whipped around, spotting Chas just a few feet away.

“Will,” Chas put his hand up and stopped again. “Think about what you’re doing here.”

“If you were a few inches shorter, Chas, I wouldn’t have seen your shadow.” His jaw tightened.

“Give me the gun.”

“The police already know it’s you!” I shouted across the room. “Killing everyone here will do nothing.” My teeth chattered and I tried to sound convincing.

“Yeah, I’m going to disregard that theory,” Will said, brushing off my attempt at a warning - or a threat. He looked back to Chas and raised the gun, “Goodbye, Dad.”

Carol sprinted in his direction, screaming as she tackled Will to the ground from behind. At the same time, the gun went off and I immediately moved my hands to my ears. That was the first time I had heard a firearm being shot; and in the echoey pool area it sounded more like a cannon.

“Dad!” Dr. Miller shrieked and I realized that Chas had been knocked to the ground and laid flat on his back.

Carol was still on Will’s back, and I ran toward the gun that had skipped out of his hands when she tackled him. He quickly shoved her off and I grabbed it before he could come over.

“Give it to me!” Dr. Miller shouted, “(Y/N), give me the gun!”

I ran to him, feeling Will at my heels, and managed to get it into Dr. Miller’s hands as I leapt into the pool, more as a reaction than for any logical reason.

Will ran down the first two steps and then froze when he came face-to-face with the barrel as Dr. Miller’s dark eyes burned into his.

I could feel my own breathing. I literally could feel it. My chest heaved up and down. My shoulders lifted each time I inhaled and dropped each time I exhaled. My throat was dry and I felt like this must be what an asthma attack felt like. I couldn’t breathe like I normally breathed.

It was all a blur. At once, my thoughts were juggling between, is Chas alive? Will Dr. Miller shoot Will? Does Dr. Miller have the physical strength to shoot him? What is Carol going to do? Did anyone hear the gunshot? Are we going to survive this?

Panic set in. My ears were no longer functioning. I couldn’t accurately make out a single word that was being said, screamed or negotiated. Will’s lips were moving. From where I was positioned just behind Dr. Miller I could see his entire upper body trembling as he held the gun out in front of him.

Chas’s head rose and fell. Carol kneeled down beside her father. Blood covered her palms and she began to apply pressure to a would on his upper body.

“Joel!” She shrieked. I heard her that time. And the second plea was louder.

Do it. Don’t do it. Shoot him. Don’t shoot him. I didn’t know what I wanted. I didn’t know what I could cope with. Would I be able to go on living my normal life if Dr. Miller blew Will’s head off right in front of me? No. I knew the answer to that. No, I couldn’t. It would ruin me. I knew it would.

But did that matter? What if WIll lunged for the gun? What was Dr. Miller supposed to do then? Let him take it from him? Let Will kill us all one-by-one? Forever therapy seemed like the better option of the two. Will killed all those girls. Will deserved to die.

I closed my eyes tightly and blocked it all out. I couldn’t bare it. Any of it. I put my hands over my ears and cowered behind Dr. Miller. I clamped my teeth down so hard I was certain I could crack a molar.

And then I heard Carol’s muffled cries. “You don’t have to do this, Joel! You don’t have to do this!”

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

@untamedheart81 @suttonspuds @cesspitoflove @michilandcof @grogusmum @morallyinept @akah565 @brittmb115 @magpiepills @poodlebae @gobaaby-blog-blog @mermaidgirl30 @mandojojo @shotgun-shelby @itscatrodriguez-thepearl @macaroni676 @smolbeanzzz @sarcasm-theotherwhitemeat @bandluvr97

#joel miller x y/n #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x oc #pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x f!oc #joel miller x female oc #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x fem reader #pedro pascal x f!reader #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal x fem reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x oc #joel miller x original character #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #professor joel #joel miller professor #protective joel #joel x reader #joel the last of us

[thurio-edau]

SBG GANG MENTAL ANALYSIS

first of all, I should explain what I am going to do. starting with Ashlyn, I'll analyze and/or theorize the group. because there is a lot of depth to all their characters and I've really been wanting to do this for some time. it will be a total of 5 posts instead of 6, because I will be analyzing Tyler and Taylor together due to obvious reasons. I will also cut them at the beginning because they might be long and also there will be triggers.

Part 1: Ashlyn Banner

I'm starting with Ashlyn right here as the protagonist and the leader of the series. Ashlyn's probably won't be very long since this is not a character analysis and instead, a mental characteristic analysis. even though her character is written so well that doesn't mean she has to be mentally sick, since she seems to be... well the most stable one -until the recent chapters-

what I'll be starting off with, will be autism. even though it's not confirmed fully in canon, Red herself said that she wrote Ashlyn with autism in mind so in this analysis I'll mostly go through with the symptoms she shows and how it explains her character.

her most obvious and constantly repeated symptom is her sensory issues. she is able to hear phantom noises and other things no one can hear due to her hypersensitive hearing.

from the beginning of the series, she has been repeatedly struggling with loud noises even though she wore earplugs or noise-cancellation headphones. Ashlyn herself said that she didn't want to make friends growing up, one of the reasons being her sensitive hearing allowing her to hear everything. you'd also probably be wary of things like it if you had her hearing; any gossip, talking behind backs, rumours etc. would not be pleasant to hear and you'd be aware of everyone's true side.

the group understands her problems with her hearing being too strong, and looks after her whenever there's anything loud. which was first seen at the arcade if I'm correct, Taylor asked her if she'd be alright and Aiden got punched in the face while he was worried about her.

or the time Taylor and Logan were shooting at the centipede phantom, due to the bullets making extremely loud sounds for her. or in the facility, when Logan told her to cover her ears to take down a phantom.

from the moment she was born, she had always been sensitive to any loud sounds. reminding here that autism is a neurodivergency, which means someone's brain is diverse than most other who we call neurotypicals. autism, ADHD, bipolar etc. are neurodivergencies that cannot be obtained later in life, and has always been at the person's brain.

I see myself in her frequently, I also wear earplugs constantly and my friends are aware of the sensory issues I have. her reactions to said sensory issues are written really realistic and correctly.

next, boundaries and distancing.

once again, since the beginning, Ashlyn has been distancing herself from everyone around her. this part will mostly include Aiden due to him not understanding boundaries and having passed Ashlyn's lots of times.

autistic people tend to avoid eye contact, physical touch -if the person is not very close to them- and also usually not very expressive. for the love of god, the first time we see her geniunely smile is halfway through the series, when they get the car keys. the group's reaction to her smile is hilarious, even.

after the events of that night, Aiden is trying to understand her boundaries. he's an affectionate/caring person inside, and wants to hug her but keeps it low by just holding her head.

here we learn he did, indeed, hug her when he kept her from falling and Ashlyn even allowed it when she realized how scared he was for her.

despite keeping her boundaries always high, she let it happen this time, learning how to open up to people. before this night she was always on guard

by time she starts to see them as her actual friends, like the found family they are. autistic people are similar to cats actually, like those stray cats that will claw you instantly if you look at their eyes for long or make sudden moves to pet them. the cat sniffs your hand first, you feed it for some time, then a slight touch. the cat gets used to you after your own efforts to get close to it. Ashlyn is a similar case, she had to almost die to get used to them and accept them.

next, special interests. this part is a bit short but I feel as if it still counts to be honest.

ever since her childhood, she's been very interested in dancing. losing track of time as she does, not being interested in any other things if it wasn't related to ballet, making it a very important part of herself. her love for dance/ballet made her not take any interest in anything else like her self-defense classes her parents tried to give, and they were really surprised once she asked them to do it this time.

like cmon she has a literal dance mat on her room

which basically wraps the main symptoms! I can't really think of any detail symptoms for now because it's midnight here but I'm thinking of updating them each time I get more ideas. for the next part, mental disorders.

personally, I must say that I don't think she suffers from any mental disorders or illnesses. she's not depressive, just closed off. you might ask anxiety but she herself had said she isn't shy or nervous, she herself just doesn't like to talk a lot which is fully valid. Ashlyn hasn't showed any problems in talking in front of audiences, she isn't paranoid -her hypersensitive hearing doesn't count since it's not paranoia; she knows what's in there because she hears- and seems to be mentally more stable than the rest of the group. I also don't think she has anger issues the way Ben and Tyler do, it's just that everything got on her nerves quickly before she got used to the team.

she doesn't mind being the leader of the group and definitely isn't scared, as seen as how she went up against Tyler when they first were in the phantom dimension.

Ashlyn is basically the autistic girl who doesn't like talking much and has high boundaries, but once she warms up to her friends she's willing to do anything for them as seen as the recent episodes in the facility. I'm almost fully sure that she is autistic, considering the signs she shows.

sorry if this was a bit boring! the next ones will definitely be more interesting because the rest of the characters have interesting backstories and oh boy some disorders, I just wanted to start with Ashlyn to see if I could do this the way it was in my mind. I'm sure the rest can be pretty good!

I'd like it if anyone else mentioned more stuff. next up will be Aiden, who has a plethora of characteristics and it's definitely going to be really interesting. thank you for reading so far but I won't be writing Aiden's now because hhhhhh i need some sleep

#sbg (webtoon) #school bus graveyard #school bus graveyard webtoon #schoolbus graveyard #ashlyn banner #sbg #sbg ashlyn #sbgblr

[hearts4golbach]

The Night Shift.

Chapter 7.

Johnnie Guilbert x Fem!Reader.

I sat at the counter with my notebook and pen, scribbling down ideas for new recipes or drinks. My mind frequently wandered to johnnie, and it worried me. I couldn't get what Jake asked me out of my brain. did I like johnnie? I couldn't tell if what I was feeling was just having a really good friend or something more. I cringed at myself. I doodled on the side of my page, drawing hearts and stars until someone walked in.

"Hello, miss." the man said with a heavy southern accent. I suppressed a laugh, thinking about Jake.

"Hi, what can i get for you?"

"Let me get the peanut butter mocha, please. That'll be all." he sighed. I nodded in response. "You got a boyfriend?"

I furrowed my eyebrows. I'm sure he didn't mean it the way it sounded. I immediately thought about johnnie. "No, sir."

"Well, don't worry. once you find someone, you'll know." he had a crooked tooth grin.

"Oh, thank you." I smiled. it confused me where this came from. "Why do you say?"

"You learn to read how people feel when you have a bipolar wife." he snorted.

"Well, you were spot on."

a woman walked in behind him on her phone. she looked up and smiled at me. she was beautiful, even if she had a messy bun and no makeup. she seemed sweet.

"Listen, you seem like a nice girl. you've got looks on your side, too. I say go for it. I know I don't know your situation, but when you look back, you'll regret it."

I was getting a little more concerned each second. this was almost creepy. how could he be so right? I passed his coffee over the counter. "Thank you." I said genuinely.

he nodded, not saying a word as he walked out of the cafe.

"What was that about?" the girl asked, walking up to the counter.

"Apparently, he could sense how I was feeling. I've been overthinking about this guy I met, and he was spot on." I shrugged.

"so, when's he going to tell my fortune?" she joked, pulling out her wallet. "tell me about this guy."

"well, I met him a few days ago. I think he's really cute and we've had our... moments, I guess. i think I might be gaslighting myself into thinking I don't like him like that. I've never had a boyfriend, let alone a genuine crush." I rambled. "I genuinely do not know why I'm opening up to strangers."

"I mean, who knows if we'll ever cross paths again."

"still, I feel stupid." I shake my head. "anyway, what can I get for you?"

"can I just get an iced caramel coffee?" she asked with a sweet smile on her face.

I hum, turning around to make it. What a weird night, I'll probably end up rephrasing to tell johnnie later. we talked little after she asked.

"I hope you have a good night." I smiled softly as I handed her coffee over the counter.

"you too." she smiled back before walking out.

I sat back down and continued to try and write, but my mind frequently wandered back to johnnie. was he even coming tonight?

about an hour and a half later, the door bell rang. "Hey, y/n." Johnnie's tired voice called. I looked up, he carried his computer under one arm.

"johnnie, how bad is your sleep schedule?" I teased, "this is the 3rd night in a row you've come to see me. you must love my face to come here at like 2 am every night."

"what can I say? I get really bad nightmares and your face does in fact make me feel better."

my gaze softened as I smiled.

"do you mind if I hang out in here and edit a video?"

"I'd love that." my heart fluttered at Johnnie's presence.

I turned around to clean the counters as he chose the table closest to where I was. he lazily opened his computer and pulled up the needed footage.

I hummed quietly to what was playing in my headphone as I finished wiping everything down. I fixed myself a coffee and went to sit across from him.

"I had the weirdest fucking encounter today." I mentioned.

he looked up. "what happened?"

"This guy came in and told me that I seemed stressed over a guy and that I'll know if he's the right person and I shouldn't fight my feelings off." I blurted, not bothering to rephrase it.

he made eye contact with me again, curiosity glistening in his eyes. "so, like, a connection you can't explain? thats really poetic."

"yeah, it's scary cause he's right." I mumbled.

"well, if you think you've found that person, then go for it. life's too short to not." he looks back down at his laptop.

"what if I'm not sure if he likes me back?"

a twinge of hurt flashed in his eyes. he seemed to be scrounging for ways to respond. "well, what if he's just as unsure as you?" he asked knowingly.

I furrowed my eyebrows. "so should I really think on it?"

"you might be wasting time, but you never know. maybe waiting is a good decision." he avoided eye contact with me.

"are you good?"

"yeah." he trailed off, rubbing his arm.

silence filled the room for a good minute, I zoned out, staring into my coffee once more.

"have you ever felt that way?"

"felt like what?"

"when you like someone but you're terrified it'll ruin something good?" I pondered.

he looked up, his gaze softening. "yeah, the fear of losing someone so special even though nothing has happened yet?"

"yeah, exactly."

"well, I guess we have to take risks. step out of our comfort zone, you know?" he paused. "at least we could say we tried, right?"

"right." I whispered, awkward tension filled the room.

he cleared his throat. "when you know, you know."

#johnnie guilbert x you #johnnie guilbert x reader #jake and johnnie #johnnie guilbert #fanfiction #fanfic #jake webber #tara yummy #the night shift

[cvrnelians]

black sheep

dark!eddie brock AU - After years of struggling with your mental health, you are relieved to be diagnosed with and treated for bipolar disorder. You finally feel strong enough to move to New York and pursue your dream as an artist.

When you respond to an ad for a newspaper interview for World Mental Health Day, you meet Eddie Brock, a reporter that you instantly take a liking to. You write it off as a silly, one sided crush, and continue to focus on yourself and your career. But not long after your interview, you start to feel like someone is watching you.

Perhaps Eddie Brock likes you a little more than you think…

warnings: stalking, manipulation.

You were not sure why it caught your eye.

Interviewees Needed for Article - Pay $50 per interview

We at The Daily Bugle are looking for individuals with various mental health diagnoses for an editorial as a tribute to World Mental Health Day. Pseudonyms allowed if preferred. Participants of any age are welcome.

Having just moved to Brooklyn, you figured you would download the app for the local newspaper, The Daily Bugle. You sifted through the upcoming events, remaining optimistic that you would at least attempt to be social. Being a freelance artist, you mainly wanted to keep an eye out for any potential job leads. You considered posting an ad of your own to promote your small business, but you weren’t sure you could call it a business quite yet. At times, you weren’t even sure that you could confidently call yourself an artist. Even so, you had managed to sell enough commissions to land yourself a tiny apartment in the city.

The ad was simple and straightforward. You probably wouldn’t have even found it if you hadn’t scrolled all the way down. It wasn’t the paid gig you were looking for, but fifty dollars was fifty dollars. If there was one thing you were completely sure of, it was that you were a qualified candidate for this article.

Your official diagnosis, courtesy of your psychiatrist, had been an unexpected relief. Bipolar II. You routinely beat yourself up for not coming to that conclusion on your own, for not realizing it sooner. You had been on and off various SSRIs for years, ever since you were a teenager, and they had either not worked at all or made your symptoms worse. You learned a lot about yourself in hindsight. Your mother always referred to you as a “night owl.” Little did you realize, all of those late nights spent creating more paintings than you knew what to do with were the product of hypomania. Your depressive episodes were always far worse than your hypomanic episodes, the last being your most severe. It nearly landed you in the hospital.

Finally—finally—after years of trial and error, you decided to start seeing a new psychiatrist about six months prior. You credited her for changing your life, for helping you find a medication that not only helped you function on a basic level, but helped you to thrive. You had wanted to move to the city ever since you graduated high school. With the way your mental health had been deteriorating, you never thought you would actually do it.

But you did, and you did it all on your own. As lonely as you felt and as broke as you were, the thought made you smile. It gave you hope.

After a few minutes of staring at your phone, you figured you would give it a shot. If you wanted to protect your privacy, you could just use a pseudonym. Or maybe, just maybe, the article would provide you with an opportunity to promote your art. Startled, you heard a raspy and exhaustion laden “Yeah?” on the first ring. Whoever this man was, it sounded like he had just woken up.

“Um…hi,” you said awkwardly. “I’m inquiring about an ad that I found in The Daily Bugle, the one about World Mental Health Day? Do I have the right number?”

“Oh. Uh, yeah. Hey.”

You could hear the person grumble on the end of the line, almost as if he was stretching.

“Are you still conducting interviews? I tried checking on the app, but it didn’t say when the ad was posted.”

The man chuckled. “Yeah, that stupid thing. They just launched it recently. They’ve been trying to get it up and running for ages. They’ve had some kid who’s not even qualified working on it.”

“Ah,” you said. “That explains a lot actually. It kept, like, zooming in and out as I was scrolling through?”

“Hah, figures. I deleted the thing from my phone two minutes after I downloaded it. It crashes pretty much every day. The website sucks, too. Honestly, you’re better off just buying the actual paper, but no one does that anymore.”

The man cleared his throat.

“But yeah, I’m still doing interviews,” he said. “Where in the city are you located?”

You agreed to meet at a hole-in-the wall cafe nearby. You had never been there before.

“It’s quiet enough that we’ll be able to actually hear each other speak, and secluded enough that no one will hear what we’re discussing. I, uh…I know this stuff is really personal and hard for people to talk about, so I want to give you that respect. We can go to a more popular place if you’d be more comfortable with that. Or we could meet up at the park. If you need proof that I’m a real reporter, my name’s Eddie Brock. You can google me…or search for my articles on that app we love so much.”

You smiled to yourself. You liked Eddie Brock.

“No,” you said. “The place you suggested should be just fine.”

Luckily, you didn’t live too far from one another. The coffee shop was only a ten minute walk for you. You got there before he did, ordering yourself a large coffee. The place was kind of shabby, but the old woman at the counter had a kind face. She made you feel seen, like you weren’t just a number in the vast metropolis that was New York. She reminded you of home.

You shoved some cash into the tip jar and walked over to an open booth. As Eddie had stated, the place wasn’t very crowded. You had quite a few spots to choose from. You sat there for a few minutes, your fingers fidgeting as you took large sips of your coffee and scrolled through Instagram. As rundown as the place was, you had to admit that the coffee was pretty spectacular.

Fifteen minutes after you were supposed to meet up, a man in a worn out leather jacket stumbled through the doorway. He seemed to have some trouble opening the door, pulling at the handle despite it being a push door. You couldn’t help but smirk, pressing your lips together to keep from laughing. As he walked in, the woman at the counter shook her head.

“Eddie, I’ve told you ten times now!” she said.

They both spoke in unison. “You have to push the door open.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know, May,” Eddie said. He suddenly dropped what appeared to be a motorcycle helmet on the floor, causing you both to jump.

“Jesus Christ…” he grumbled.

“The usual?” May asked, already turning towards the cappuccino machine.

“Yup,” he said, placing some crumpled up bills and a bunch of coins on the counter. He peered around the cafe at the very few patrons, his brows furrowed. You gave him a little wave.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, barreling towards you. It was quickly becoming clear to you that Eddie was not the most graceful person in the world.

“Hi,” you said timidly. The prospect of talking about your mental health issues with someone you didn’t know suddenly felt very intimidating. You stood up from your spot as he reached out to shake your hand.

“Eddie Brock,” he said, giving you a smile that instantly put you at ease. It wasn’t one of those polite, surface level smiles that acquaintances typically doled out. It seemed genuine, like he was actually happy to see you. “Nice to meet you.”

He sat down and placed his helmet on his side of the booth.

“You rode your motorcycle here?” you asked. Ugh. Obviously. Why were you so awkward?

“Oh, yeah. I’m sorry I’m late. I try to be on time for my interviews, but it’s rare that I’m ever on time for anything. I did run into some heavy traffic today, though. I swear.”

“It’s alright,” you said. “I’ve got all day.”

“Day off?” he asked, smiling warmly at you.

“Um…” Every day was a day off for you lately. “Yes…?”

May slammed his drink on the counter. “If you want your drink, you better come over and get it, Eddie. I’m not a waitress.”

Eddie playfully rolled his eyes. “Hold on, hold on,” he said in mock exasperation. May stood with her hands on her hips. He picked up the mug and tipped it up at her. “Thanks, darlin’.”

May smiled and shook her head again, redirecting her focus on cleaning off the counter.

You took a sip of your drinks at the same time as he sat back down. You shot him a knowing look.

“Good, right?” he asked. “This place is a real gem. I’ve been coming here for a while now. May takes up a big chunk of my paycheck.”

“No joke, this is probably the best cup of coffee I’ve ever had,” you conceded.

“Right?!” As you eyed him more closely, it was plain to see that he was both freshly showered and a bit hungover. He smelled like mint and aftershave, and his hair was still slightly wet.

“Alright,” he said, rubbing beneath his eye with his knuckle. “I’m not going to ask you to tell me a little bit about yourself. As a reporter, I hate that question. I really, truly do. The answers are almost never honest or authentic—not completely, anyway. I like the complete story, the real one. Besides, this isn’t a job interview, and I’m not going to put you on the spot like that.”

Okay. You really liked Eddie Brock.

“If anything I’m asking makes you uncomfortable, though, tell me and I’ll scrap it. It’s an editorial. It’s meant to empower people with mental illness, so you control the narrative. If we finish up this interview and you start feeling remorse, tell me and I’ll scrap it, as long as you tell me before the first of the month. Once I submit it, there’s nothing I can do. But you’re getting your fifty bucks either way.”

You nodded. “Got it.”

“Alright. You ready?”

You nodded.

“Let’s get down to business, then,” he said, pulling out his phone. “Is it okay if I record this? I won’t post it anywhere. I’ll delete it after I finish the article, I just need to transcribe it.”

“Yeah, that’s no problem.”

The conversation was really fluid and natural for what it was. It felt like a normal, everyday discussion. Initially, he just asked you a lot about your job and your life before moving to the city. He would occasionally interject and tell you about himself, providing the right amount of give-and-take to make you feel at ease. He was originally from San Francisco. He moved to New York for college and wound up staying after he graduated. He had been a reporter at The Daily Bugle for a few years, and preferred to delve into some serious investigative journalism whenever the opportunity presented itself. He dabbled in photography, too.

It was around ten minutes in that he started asking you about your mental health. It was bizarre just how comfortable you felt with Eddie, more comfortable than you had felt with anyone in a very long time. It was like a dam had broken. The words came out of you before you could stop them, perhaps because you had spent so much time alone since moving to the city, without anyone to talk to. More likely, though, it was because you knew you wouldn’t be at risk of oversharing. He actually wanted the whole scoop. That was what he was paying you for.

More than that, though, it seemed like he was truly listening—like he actually cared. There was something about the way he looked at you.

“I don’t think I’ll even need that audio file,” he chuckled. “I don’t know if you could tell, but I feel really…invested, I guess is the right word, in your story.”

“Sorry…” you said. You weren’t sure why you were even apologizing. You swore it was just a natural reflex for you. It was something for you to work on.

“I just want you to know, it means something to me that you told me all this.”

You let out a nervous laugh, averting your eyes towards your coffee. You ran your pointer finger over the edge of the mug.

“No,” he said, placing his hand over yours. “I’m serious. Look at me. Look up at me.”

When you looked up, you were caught off guard by the intensity of his gaze, the unwavering sincerity there. The color of his eyes was interesting; not quite blue, not quite green. Hazel. Kind of pretty, really.

“This isn’t just another story for me. The fact that you trusted me enough to be so honest…I don’t take that for granted. Thank you.”

You gave him a small smile. He grabbed your hands and enclosed them with his, squeezing a tiny bit before letting them go. “I’ll do right by you with this article. I meant what I said about you controlling the narrative. You have any regrets, you call me and it’s gone.”

“Thanks, Eddie,” you said. “It’s been really nice talking to you. And thank you for the money. I almost feel tempted to give it back to you.”

He waved his hand flippantly at you, as if the gesture would wipe that thought away completely.

“Oh, by the way. Did you want to use a pseudonym? I’m totally fine with that. But—and this is not to sound patronizing—I think using your real name would be a great opportunity for you to promote your business, and I would like to give you that opportunity.”

You were somewhat hesitant to do so given the personal nature of the article. You had initially replied to it because the offer of a pseudonym meant that you had nothing to lose. But when you thought about it, you needed more than just this fifty dollars to tie you over, and you could really use that kind of exposure. Not to mention, you were tired of being made to feel ashamed of your diagnosis. As scary as it was, being open about it was consistent with your values. It helped set a precedent. You quickly gave him your social media handle, along with the name of your website.

You both sat in silence for a while. Your drinks were finished. You had already thanked each other for your time. There was no reason to stick around. And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to get up and leave. You felt a little drained from releasing all of that pent up energy, and you assumed Eddie felt tired from listening to all of it. How long had it been—an hour? Two? That was a lot of talking.

“Can I ask you something?” you probed, the words escaping before you could stop them.

“Ah, now it’s my turn to be in the hot seat,” he mused. “Maybe I should order another coffee.”

“Why did you want to write about this?” you asked. “Was it something your boss assigned to you, or were you just interested…?”

Eddie paused for a long moment, thinking to himself.

“Well,” he said wistfully. “I would be lying to you if I told you that I didn’t have my own issues. I think we all do. Some people—” he gestured towards you. “—are just more honest about it than others. I wanted to take on this project because I have a personal connection to it, and I think it’s important for people to talk about. To tell you the truth, I got fired from my job a few months ago. Not for long, but long enough for me to sink into a pretty deep depression. I didn’t get out of bed for a while. I wasn’t eating, I wasn’t checking my mail, I wasn’t paying my bills, I wasn’t even showering. It was really dark for a while. I know there are other jobs out there, but I felt crushed. I was lucky that they decided to bring me back on. I pretty much had to beg for my spot back, but I’m here now nonetheless.”

“I’m really sorry, Eddie.”

He shrugged. “It could’ve been much worse, but thank you.“

“Can I ask why you got fired?”

Another sigh. “I was writing a piece about this serial killer that was terrorizing the city for a good six months or so. That story became my whole life. I ate, slept, and breathed that case. It meant that much to me. I wanted to be the one to catch and expose the killer. I genuinely felt like I had the capacity to do it, like I was on the edge of finding the truth.

“I ended up finding out who the killer was. At least, I thought I did. I told the police, and they ended up conducting an investigation. They turned up with nothing, but I was just so sure of myself. I ended up publishing the story in The Daily Bugle. I didn’t ask my boss or any of the editors for permission. I did it entirely on my own, which you’re never supposed to do. I sort of…snuck it onto the front page. It took a lot of finagling, but I was desperate. I really wanted people to know who this guy was. It wasn’t even about my ego as a reporter at that point. I didn’t care about breaking the big story anymore. No one at work believes me when I tell them that, but really I just wanted to protect people. That was all I wanted.”

“It wasn’t the guy, was it?” you asked.

He ran his hand through his hair and sighed.

“That kid that I mentioned, the one that created the app? He was the one that caught the guy. My boss wrote an article exposing me for doing what I did after talking to him. He was the one who got me fired. Peter Parker.”

Even though you agreed with what Peter did, you liked Eddie enough to want to make him feel better about the situation. He was only human, after all. His intentions had been good, but the way he went about it had been godawful.

“That’s a stupid name,” you blurted out.

He chuckled wryly. “Yeah, I thought so, too. But he helped protect the city. I didn’t. Not to mention, I accused an innocent man of something he didn’t do. I tried to have him incarcerated. What if he had been? I feel terrible about that every day. I’ve tried reaching out to him to apologize, but he hates me. I can’t say I blame him.

“Even though the story itself wasn’t about my ego, the fact that I screwed up so royally and lost my job bruised my ego quite a bit. It was just so humiliating. I’m lucky my family doesn’t give a shit about what I’m up to, because if they found out what happened, they would torture me about it until the end of time.”

You suddenly felt lost for words. All you could come up with was, “I’m sorry, Eddie.”

He gave you a light smile and turned to look out the window.

“I always say that I came to this city because I wanted to try something new. I wanted to live in New York; see the sights, become a real journalist, carve out a path of my own. Now that’s all true, but the real story is that I probably would have gone anywhere to escape where I grew up. Ask anyone in my family, and they’d be happy to inform you that I’m the undisputed black sheep.”

In spite of his wrongs, the look on his face tugged on something within you. You loved your family, but you could relate to feeling like an outsider. It was glaringly obvious that your parents would always like your older sister more than they liked you. And why wouldn’t they? She was smart, hardworking, beautiful. She had a well-paying job and a perfect little family of her own.

And she wasn’t bipolar.

“It’s embarrassing to admit, but I was nasty towards that Parker kid long before he broke that story about me. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not in my nature to be a bully. I used to beat up kids like that in school,” he emphasized, raising his hands defensively. “But something about that boy reminds me so much of my little brother, and I hate my brother.”

“Why?” you asked. “Was he a jerk?”

“No,” he said. “Not at all, actually. That’s the worst part. When I was much younger, I loved my brother. He was a nerd, and I was always very protective of him. But when I got to be around—I don’t know, thirteen or fourteen—things changed. My parents saw him as the golden child. They practically worshipped the ground he walked on. I kind of understand it now. He was a good kid. He was smart, he did well in school, and he was just so nice. Good-natured, eager to help out. Like that Parker kid. I was a bit of a rebel, so…”

He took a large gulp of his coffee. “He’s a doctor now, the little prick.”

You laughed. “Probably a very good doctor, I’m guessing?”

“Oh, I have no doubt about that,” he said. “Neither do my parents. I don’t really speak to him if I can avoid it. He used to try and reach out to me, but he doesn’t anymore unless it’s around the holidays. Whenever I’m caught up in an episode of self-loathing, I’ll unblock him on Facebook so I can see what he’s up to. I’m sorry to bore you with all this, though. I know this ain’t about me.”

“Y’know, I could definitely picture you being a little rebel,” you said, a grin spreading across your face. “Did you have a motorcycle as a teenager, too?”

He shot you a look. “Oh, I had a motorcycle alright…if you could call it that. It was seriously a deathtrap. I bought it off Craigslist for five hundred bucks, long before I got my motorcycle license. I would ride around the neighborhood without a helmet on and rev the engine to try and impress girls. I still have the tattoo I got illegally, too.”

He turned his head downwards and lifted up his jeans to show you his ankle. On it was a faded red anarchy symbol with very shaky line work.

You laughed.

“Wow. Badass.”

He rolled his eyes and laughed. “I was so embarrassing. No wonder why my parents didn’t like me.”

He gave you the money he promised and even bought you a coffee for the road. He informed you that the story would be published the following month, the morning of World Mental Health Day. You parted ways with a friendly hug. Part of you was hoping that he would ask if you wanted to hang out sometime, but you quickly shoved the thought from your mind. He was a writer doing a story. Just because he was nice to you one time didn’t mean that he owed you his attention. Even if you would never see him again, you felt grateful to know at least one person in the city. Actually two now, having met May.

The following week was a strange one, to say the least.

It started off promisingly enough. On Monday morning, you received an order on your website for some small prints you had done a while ago. It was all from the same person. They wanted the prints shipped to a P.O. box, and they had listed their name as ‘Alien Symbiote.’ You had to laugh. If there was anyone out there that you wanted as a customer, it was someone that referred to themselves as ‘Alien Symbiote.’

You swiftly mailed the prints out and decided to stop by that cafe Eddie had introduced you to. You wanted to start off your week seeing a familiar face, and May did not disappoint. She gave you your drink to-go with a smile and a “Hope to see you back here soon!”

"Don’t worry,” you reassured her. You will.”

You made your trip to the cafe quick. A part of you secretly hoped you might see Eddie there, but that made you feel like a massive creep. If he was going to show up any time soon—which you highly doubted, given how hectic his job probably was—you skedaddled before he could. You didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. You just really, really wanted that coffee.

You took a stroll through the park for half an hour or so before sitting down on a nearby bench. You put your headphones in and set to work on some random illustrations in your sketchbook. You must have listened to the same song thirty times—as you were prone to do when you found a new song you liked—before you finally got sick of it and changed it to something else. Hours passed as you scribbled, shaded, outlined and erased anything and everything that crossed your mind. Lately you were on a wildlife kick. The cornfields and pastures you drew made you feel a little homesick. You stopped yourself before you would inevitably cry, and focused on running errands instead. Walking around with music playing in your ears made grocery store runs much more enticing.

When you got home, you collapsed onto your bed to take a late afternoon nap. Just as you were about to fall asleep, you felt a nice breeze circulating throughout your room. You opened your eyes slowly, your gaze shifting towards your window—which had been left wide open. You couldn’t remember opening it; not that morning, not last night. You typically kept all of your windows closed and locked, but you had woken up feeling pretty exhausted. In fact, you were waking up pretty exhausted most mornings. You wrote it off as a side effect of your medication. Maybe you had opened it while you were getting ready and left it ajar without being fully aware of what you were doing. You left it as it was during your nap. You would make sure to shut and lock it when you woke up. The breeze was just so nice.

The next few days were when things got weird.

Your psychiatrist from your hometown had referred you to a new psychiatrist a few blocks from where you lived. You knew you could trust her referral. Your new psychiatrist had a very warm presence. He exceeded your expectations. When you brought up the tiredness you experienced from your medication, he said there was likely an easy fix. He suggested that you try a new medication. If it didn’t work out, you could always switch back to the old one. You were a bit wary at first, but he reassured you that a large number of his Bipolar II patients recounted positive experiences with this particular drug.

It all started on your late night walk home from the pharmacy. You took out your headphones for a brief moment to untangle the wires, and that was when you heard it. There was a set of footsteps walking directly behind you, almost like they were trying to keep pace with you. You whipped your head around, spotting some typical passerby. A family, two women laughing, a guy walking his dog. You figured that maybe a cat had skittered by right next to you or something.

But it happened again the next night. And the night after that. And in the afternoon, and in the morning. You kept hearing those footsteps right behind you. Sometimes when you turned around, you could see another shadow in addition to yours, only for it to quickly disappear. It felt like someone was watching you, like someone was following you. You tried to reason with yourself that this paranoia was due to your new medication, but you remembered hearing those footsteps the night prior to even starting it.

There was other stuff, too.

You kept forgetting to lock your window at night, which was strange, because you could never remember unlocking it. You woke up on Friday to find that you had misplaced a few of your drawings. After scouring your entire apartment to find them, you realized they may have fallen out of your sketchbook during one of your many walks through the park.

It didn’t help that your new medication was making you nauseous. Your psychiatrist had reassured you that this was a typical side effect within the first two weeks, and that it would most likely pass after that point. If it didn’t, you could always try something else (as frustrating as that idea was). In spite of the nausea, you were starting to feel less tired in the mornings, and you hadn’t been experiencing any racing thoughts or depressive symptoms.

You lost your headphones at some point in the midst of this, which was disappointing. Although you received a few commissions via Instagram that week, you didn’t want to factor a new pair of headphones into your budget this month. You figured you would wait for another online order or commission until splurging on yourself.

Your concerns about money and issues with nausea seemed to have no effect on your coffee intake, however. You stopped by to see May every few days, more than willing to spend as much as you needed to in order to get your fix. On Friday afternoon, May stopped you before you could head out the door.

“Eddie was here this morning,” she said. “I think he’s been looking for you. He asked if I had seen you at all this week.”

You felt a rush of gaiety at her words.

“Really?”

May nodded. “I told him it was none of his business until he bought something. And then when he bought something, I told him it was still none of his business,” she chuckled. “But then he tipped me, and I relented.”

You wondered if the number you called him with was a landline at work or something. But it couldn’t have been. When you first spoke to him, it sounded like he had literally just woken up, unless he had fallen asleep at his desk. Maybe he received a lot of phone calls due to the ad, and wasn’t sure which number was yours in his call log.

May leaned towards you and gestured for you to come closer to the counter. When you leaned in, she whispered, “I think that man is a little sweet on you, to tell you the truth.”

You felt your stomach flip, and you suddenly felt flustered. You really wanted to believe that. It was hard not to like Eddie. He was kind and perceptive and real. But it was more likely that he wanted to speak with you about the story. As disappointed as that made you feel, you were happy to help him out in any way you could.

“Thanks, May,” you said, clearing your throat. “I’ll get in touch with him.”

🕷

You laid in bed, scrolling through your phone as a Hulu documentary blared at you from your tv. It didn’t take long to find Eddie’s number. The only other people in your call log since moving to Brooklyn were your mom, your sister, and a few telemarketers. You typed in his number like you were about to text him, then deleted it. You did this several times. You wanted to contact him, but you also didn’t want to seem like some clingy weirdo that lacked boundaries.

But he had been looking for you…

You set your phone down on the dresser next to your bed and restarted the documentary. You hadn’t been paying much attention to it, and it seemed fairly interesting. Maybe you would text him in the morning.

When you were just on the verge of sleep, your phone startled you awake. Someone was calling you. You scrambled to turn down the volume on your tv. With blurry vision, you reached to grab it, your fingers fumbling as you got ahold of your phone. You moved your finger across the touch screen and held it up it to your ear without even really looking at the number that was calling you.

“Hello?” you said with a yawn.

“Hi. This is Eddie Brock, the writer from The Daily Bugle? I conducted an interview with you about a week ago.”

You immediately sat up. “Yeah! Eddie. Hey.”

If you weren’t mistaken, it was like you could hear him smile through the phone.

“I’m sorry to be calling so late,” he lamented. “If you want, I can call you back sometime tomorrow at a more reasonable time. You sound a little tired.”

You looked at the clock. 9:15pm. Wow. Given all the naps you so enjoyed, it wasn’t like you to fall asleep so early in the evening.

“Nonono, it’s totally fine. It’s really not that late. How are you?”

“Ah, well. Overworked. Underpaid. You know the deal,” he said. “How have you been?”

“Not too bad. May told me you were looking for me?”

“Yeah,” he said with a breathy laugh.

Did he sound…embarrassed?

“I’m so sorry to bother you with this, but I was hoping I could see you again sometime soon. I have a few more questions I wanted to ask for the article. Also—if this makes you uncomfortable, stop me now—the bossman suggested that we get some photos to go along with it.”

“Photos?”

“Yeah, a few pictures of the people I interviewed; only the ones that were okay with sharing their identities, obviously. They won’t be printed in the actual paper, but they’ll be posted online when the story comes out.”

You mulled that over for a second. It was scary thinking of people seeing what you looked like and knowing so much information about you. But if you wanted to promote your business and be seen as a legitimate artist, you figured there had to be some price to pay. Besides, if anyone decided to take a peek at your social media after reading the article, they would end up seeing your face, anyway.

“You can say no,” he said, his words adamant. “We can just finish up some more questions for the interview, or we can forgo those altogether. I know this is a lot to ask from you, and I have more than enough material t—”

“No,” you interrupted. “No, Eddie, it’s fine. I’m totally okay with that. If I’m willing to fully reveal my identity, I think it’ll help normalize my diagnosis in some small way. It shows people they shouldn’t be ashamed of it.”

“That’s what my boss said, and I mostly agreed. I just don’t want to risk it being exploitative on any level. But are you really sure? The last thing I want to do is waste your time.”

“I appreciate that. I’m sure.”

“There’s just one little thing,” he said.

“…Okay?”

“I’m going to be the one taking the photos. I actually started off as a photographer at The Bugle before I landed my writing gig. We can shoot them literally anywhere you want. The sidewalk, the park, your apartment, wherever. But I can find you a female photographer if you’d be more comfortable with that.”

“No, I trust you. But if the photos turn out bad—which won’t be your fault, I assure you—I’m not above begging you to throw your camera into the ocean.”

“Don’t get it twisted,” he said with a laugh. “I think you’re gonna make my job very easy…”

Then, more quietly, “…being such a beautiful subject and all.”

He was just being nice, you told yourself. He didn’t really mean it. He just needed to get photos for his article, and he was probably schmoozing you to persuade you to do it.

Even so, it was nice to hear, especially coming from him.

🕷

Okay. So you didn’t know Eddie super well. It was probably not the best idea to invite this virtual stranger to your apartment. But there was something about him that made you feel safe, as ridiculous as that sounded. Maybe it was because he told you about his dynamic with his family, a dynamic that you were all too familiar with. Or maybe it was just your new medication, which you were developing a few concerns about.

You could feel yourself becoming increasingly scatterbrained as of late. You kept losing things; paintbrushes, your favorite shirt, the sketchbook from your freshman year of college. Once every few days, you would arrive home to find something out of place. Your window was unlocked, the cabinet drawers in your kitchen were left open, your blankets were all over the place when you thought you made your bed that morning. You even started to wonder if your apartment was haunted, but you were experiencing that same uneasiness every time you went out.

Wherever you went, you could swear you heard a set of footsteps trailing behind you, especially at night. But whenever you turned around to see who it was, no one was there. The worst part was the heavy feeling of eyes on you at all times. You weren’t sure why, but you could feel this energy in the air like someone was watching you. One night while you were attempting to cook, you spotted someone out of the corner of your eye. They were across the street, a shadow staring up into your window. When you looked outside, however, all you saw was the normal rush of people walking along the sidewalks. You started keeping your curtains closed at all times and bought a few cheap lamps to try and create an illusion of natural light. Even though you knew you were just being paranoid, your blackout curtains made you feel just a tiny bit more comfortable.

A teeny, tiny bit.

But you wanted to give this new medication a chance. Apart from the paranoia, you felt pretty stable. You weren’t buying anything impulsively or lying in bed for days on end. You woke up most mornings feeling refreshed and energetic, and kept yourself on a routine as you worked from home.

When the day came that Eddie visited you, you were really happy to see him. It was borderline pathetic. You stood up from the couch as soon as you heard his motorcycle pull up outside. You peered out the window to find him struggling to open the front doors, pushing instead of pulling. You chuckled as you watched him curse at himself and lean his head back in defeat, finally jarring them open.

When he knocked on your apartment door, you waited a few seconds before opening it. You didn’t want to appear as eager to see him as you felt. You pulled all the curtains open and turned off the lamps. It was a sunny day out, and you didn’t want him to think you were weird. As soon as you swung the door open, he smiled brightly at you.

“Hey,” you greeted him shyly.

“Hey you,” he said, as if you were old friends reuniting after a long time apart. He dropped his helmet onto the floor and pulled you into a tight hug, twisting and lifting you up slightly as he did. That same smell of mint and aftershave wafted through the air. Your feelings of paranoia and uncertainty felt like a distant memory.

He shifted his focus to your marginally messy living space. Although clean, you had paintings on canvases of various sizes stacked up all along the floor. Your charcoal pencils and oil pastels were strewn across your desk, along with a pile of unfinished commissions.

“Holy shit,” he muttered.

“I know it’s complete and utter chaos in here. I meant to clean up before you got here, but I’ve been kind of bus—”

“No,” he said, approaching one of your paintings on a larger canvas. You had completed it a while ago, a still life of the house you grew up in. He lifted it up and examined it carefully. He turned towards the other canvases and rifled through them.

He turned back towards you and raised his eyebrows. “You made these?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Not my best work, but—”

“If this isn’t your best work, then your best work has to be, like…godly.”

You snorted. “Eddie.”

“I’m serious!” he exclaimed. “I mean, I’ll admit it. I’ve creeped on your social media, and you were as talented as I thought you would be. But these are on another level.”

You figured you would spend the day walking around the park—which you did—but only after Eddie took you to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. You talked for hours, so much so that you hadn’t realized how few questions he had asked that were pertinent to the interview. You mostly just chit chatted about your daily lives, and thoughts and feelings on various topics. Your favorite movies, books, music, places. Your dream vacation, your favorite stores. He didn’t ask to voice record any of it. The only Daily Bugle related thing you did was pose for a few photos in the park, which you refused to even look at.

“I’m going to tear myself to shreds if I see them,” you said over your second cup of May’s coffee. “I’m serious. Don’t show them to me. I want you to have photos for your article and I don’t want to be annoying and ask you to retake a bunch of them.”

“We can retake as many photos as you want,” he said sympathetically. “But you really do look great in these. No surprise there.”

You could seriously get used to being complimented by Eddie Brock.

It was dark by the time you decided to call it quits. You couldn’t believe how quickly the day flew by. Eddie couldn’t, either.

“The article will be published in a few weeks. If by any chance you want to see the photos, you can take a look at the website. They should all be there.”

“Or, y’know. The app,” you teased.

He rolled his eyes. “No, not the app. Never the app.”

True to his word, the article came out the morning of World Mental Health Day. It was beautifully written. He had inserted well-researched facts and figures throughout, and paid respect to the subjects he interviewed, maintaining and promoting their dignity. The photos he posted were really good quality, edited in black and white. Apart from you, he had photographed around five other people. Yours was at the very bottom of the page, a candid photo of you laughing. You were pleasantly surprised. You actually looked kind of nice. He had even printed your website and social media handle in bold.

You shot him a text, opting not to call him during the workday.

Eddie, oh my god! It’s amazing!!!! Thank you so much!

You received a reply just a few seconds later.

Like I said, you made my job easy.

In the hours that followed, you received an overflow of commission requests and hits to your website. You were beaming as you replied to the incoming messages. Not much later, you received another text from Eddie.

Bold question for you. Would you want to grab a celebratory drink sometime?

Um…YES. Was that even a question? You let out a happy sigh as you texted him back.

As long as I’m buying. I owe you big time.

Later that night after finishing a few commissions, you set to work on a sketch for Eddie. It was risky, but you wanted to help him see his hometown through new eyes, just as you had been doing lately. You wanted to recreate San Francisco as something beautiful and safe for him to take the edge off of some of his crappy memories. He told you he always enjoyed visiting the Wave Organ when he felt bummed out. You took that tidbit of information and ran with it.

In contrast to the elation you felt, you were startled from a deep sleep the following morning by a jarring nightmare. As you were sitting in bed working away on your Wave Organ illustration, a gel-like string came through your open window and curled itself around the walls. Your eyes widened as more and more of these long, black strings came through the window. You sat there stunned, unable to move as they took up larger and larger amounts of space within your tiny room. Suddenly, a head poked its way through your window. It was the most terrifying thing you had ever seen. It looked like some kind of alien you had only ever seen in movies, with giant white eyes and sharp teeth. It was massive and looked insanely strong. It moved closer and closer towards you, clutching onto the edge of your bed with its claws. It felt like the wind had been knocked out of you. You couldn’t cry, couldn’t scream. You could barely breathe. After staring at you for a few seconds, twisting its head to the side, it poked its tongue out at you and let out this awful roaring, screaming noise.

Without even thinking, you flipped to a blank page in your sketchbook as soon as you woke up. You picked up a charcoal pencil and etched the creature onto the page in under an hour. You weren’t sure why you felt so compelled to recreate what you saw. It was like something else was controlling your hands as you drew. When you finally finished, you threw your pen down on the page and let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

🕷

“Bold question,” Eddie said, clinking his beer against yours. You hated beer, but he was adamant that the hole in the wall bar you met up at had a beer selection that even you would enjoy.

“Oh no. Not another one,” you joked, taking a sip of your drink.

Huh. He wasn’t wrong. Your beer (which he refused to allow you to pay for) was actually pretty good.

He leaned his cheek against his fist, sliding his elbow across the counter.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

You raised your eyebrows. “I don’t. Why do you ask?”

He smiled, taking a swig of his drink. “You would think I’d have asked you before. I really should have. I mean, I’m pretty invested at this point…but yeah, no. It’s good that you don’t have a boyfriend.”

You rolled your eyes and laughed. “I would have to agree. I don’t have the best track record when it comes to those.”

“No?” he asked. He placed both his elbows on the counter and draped his wrists along the edge, leaning closer towards you. He was looking at you like that was some kind of challenge, like he knew something you didn’t. “I think I can change that.”

You felt an inkling of courage at his words, reaching into your bag to pull out the Wave Organ drawing in its silly little dollar store frame. You were slowly starting to accept that Eddie Brock had a crush on you, maybe an even bigger crush on you than you had on him, if that was possible. You really, really hoped he wouldn’t think your thankful gesture wasn’t cringeworthy.

He craned his head around you to peer at the drawing. “What’s that?”

“Well…” you said, taking a deep breath. “I’m not sure if I can ever properly repay you for what you’ve done, but this is my attempt.” You held it out to him abruptly, resisting the urge to clamp your eyes shut.

He gently picked it up, pulling it closer to his face to get a good look.

“Is this…”

“The Wave Organ. I felt really sad when you told me about all the bad memories you had growing up. You mentioned that this was one of the places you liked to escape to when you were feeling low. I know this in no way erases those memories, but I wanted to give you something that could help you see San Francisco from your own, untainted point of view. I hope one day the city won’t be as ruined for you as it is now. It’s not just your family’s home. It’s yours, too. No one gets to take that away from you.”

He stared at the drawing for a long time before squinting his eyes shut and clearing his throat. He twisted his head to the side to crack his neck and cleared his throat before opening them again.

“Man…you’re getting me a little choked up over here,” he said, his voice gravelly. He set the frame down on the counter and wiped a stray tear from the corner of his eye. Maybe it hadn’t been the best move to give him such a personal gift in such a dingy bar. It wasn’t your intention to make him upset or bring the mood down. You placed your hand over his, scrambling to come up with a good apology.

“Eddie, I—”

“This just might be the best gift anyone has ever given me,” he said, brushing his thumb along the side of your hand.

He looked like he actually meant it.

And then he leaned in and kissed you. It seemed like it was simultaneously the shortest and longest kiss in the world. You got totally lost kissing him, forgetting that you were in a public place, forgetting everything.

Yup. You really, really liked Eddie Brock.

After a couple of hours, you decided to call it a night. Neither of you even really drank that much. You had one beer to his two, with lots of water and some stale chips in between. Before you could start on your walk home, Eddie stopped you.

“Hey, would you, um…would you want to come back to my place for a little bit?”

You raised your eyebrows and smirked.

“It doesn’t have to mean what you think it means, ya little goofball. I would be happy to just hang out and watch a movie with you. Like, actually watch a movie. If there’s anything I have an excess of, it’s popcorn. The good kind, too. Not that microwave shit.”

“Huh,” you mused, pretending to exaggeratedly think it over. “The good kind of popcorn, no microwave shit. A tempting prospect.”

You had to admit, you were kind of curious about what his apartment looked like. Eddie had somewhat of a messy vibe to him. Being just as engaged with his work as you were (if not more so), you figured he probably had a ton of paper and pens and post-its all over the place.

“And you’d get a free ride out of the deal with a very safe driver. I’ll even let you wear my helmet.”

You had never been on a motorcycle before.

“Well, no. I’m not letting you wear my helmet. I’m making you wear my helmet.” Before you could say anything, he pushed your hair back and slid the heavy black helmet down over your head. Once it was fully on, he lightly knocked on the side. “Gotta protect that beautiful little noggin.”

“But what about you?” you asked.

“What about me?” he asked, motioning for you to come closer as he got on the bike.

“Don’t you need a helmet?”

“Like I said, I’m a very safe driver.”

He wasn’t, but you didn’t mind.

🕷

Eddie Brock’s apartment was just what you had expected. It was very him, with brick accent walls and hardwood floors and a massive leather couch. There was a large bookshelf in the corner of the living room next to the kitchen, which was pretty clean if you ignored all the mugs and portable coffee cups in the sink. The space was dimly lit in spite of the vast quantity of light fixtures he had positioned everywhere. The living room was cluttered with random pieces of furniture he didn’t seem to know what to do with, and the coffee table had piles of papers stacked up on top of it.

“Well, this is it,” he said, tossing his keys onto the counter haphazardly. “I’m sorry it’s such a mess. Honestly I hadn’t been expecting any visitors tonight, so…”

“No?” you asked, leaning back against the fridge.

“You would think I’d have a hunch about these things, right?” he asked, pouring you a glass of water. “But no. I don’t know, I really was hoping you would want to come over here sometime, but I didn’t want to be presumptuous. When I really like someone, I try not to build my expectations up too high. I’m kind of surprised you’re here with me right now, actually. When I texted you this afternoon, I figured it was kind of a longshot.”

“Really?” you asked. “I thought it was pretty obvious that I had a massive crush on you.”

His face lit up as he shrugged his jacket off. “You had a crush on me?” he asked incredulously. “For how long?”

“I did. I do. Like, from the first time I met you.”

“Really?” he asked. “From when we did the interview at May’s? Are you sure?”

“I mean, that’s not something I’m typically uncertain about,” you chuckled. “I honestly thought you might have picked up on it.”

“No. Not at all! I wish I would have picked up on it. Maybe I wouldn’t have been so nervous sending you that text today if I had an inkling that I had a shot with you.”

“Why did you send it if you felt like you didn’t have a chance?” you asked playfully.

He shrugged. “I mean…can you really blame me for trying?”

He encouraged you to get comfortable on the couch as he set to work on the popcorn, none other than Jiffy Pop. You were surprised to find that he had a ton of DVDs in addition to being subscribed to a variety of streaming services.

“What are you in the mood for?” you asked.

“Hmm…” He turned his head towards you as he moved the pan over the stove. “Would it be weird to say horror?”

“Say no more.”

You settled on John Carpenter’s Halloween.

“Oh, where’s your bathroom?” you asked.

“Just down the hallway to the left. The lock doesn’t work, so…yeah. I won’t come bursting in on you.”

You laughed. “Good to know.”

After fixing your smudged eyeliner, straightening out your shirt, and taming a few stray hairs, you started heading back towards the living room.

And then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw it.

In the crack of a doorway was a familiar assortment of colors and lines. You pushed the door open just a tad bit more. There it was, just as you suspected: a collection of prints you had sold from your website the month prior. Your heart warmed at the thought. Eddie was the one that bought them. Eddie was ‘Alien Symbiote.’ He wanted to support your business without you knowing. He meant what he said. He really had liked your work.

You had no clue why he picked such a hilarious pseudonym, though.

You peeked down the hallway to see if Eddie had caught you snooping into his bedroom, but his back was turned to you as he worked on the popcorn. You weren’t sure why, but you pushed the door open just a tiny bit more.

You weren’t quite sure what you were seeing at first. What you were looking at was so overwhelming, so completely and utterly destabilizing that your mind couldn’t process it right away. There was just too much to take in. Eddie’s bedroom was much like the rest of the apartment, homey and cluttered and warm. But this type of clutter was…different.

Along his desk were piles of papers in complete disarray. But even through the mess, it was unmistakable.

Those were your drawings. Those were your headphones. Those were your paintbrushes. And that was your sketchbook from freshman year of college.

“Oh my god,” you whispered.

Your mind was spinning. There had to be some rational explanation as to why Eddie had those things. Your things. Things you thought you had lost or misplaced. Maybe you left them at May’s and he just so happened to find them and pick them up for you. That was a possibility, wasn’t it? That was a perfectly viable, reasonable explanation. Eddie wasn’t some kind of freak. Surely he wasn’t stalking you.

But you knew better.

Most damning of all was the bulletin board hung up above his desk. You could barely count the number of photos that were pinned up along that wall. There were photos of you walking to the post office, photos of you drawing in the park, at May’s, in your apartment. There were photos of you laughing, photos of you texting, photos of you watering the plants along your windowsill, even photos of you sleeping.

You felt like doing several things simultaneously as your nausea kicked into overdrive. You wanted to scream, cry, hide, jump out the window. You wanted to melt through the walls and avoid having to see him ever again as you bolted out of the building. You looked to the window to check for a fire escape, to no avail. It had to have been just outside the living room. You wondered if you could make it out there without him noticing, but that would be impossible. Eddie was super perceptive, and apparently hyper aware of your every move.

Almost every move. You had discovered his little…whatever this was without him knowing.

Not only was Eddie Brock a stalker, he was also a reporter. It was as if he was following you with the same fervor that he would a corrupt politician or a local hero or anyone else he was writing some in-depth exposé about. It was just so jarring. Only a few seconds ago, you felt lucky and hopeful about getting to know him better. Now all you wanted to do was erase yourself from his memory entirely.

If you lingered there any longer, you knew he would start to suspect something was up. You took a few deep breaths, trying your best not to hyperventilate. You crept down the hallway into the living room as quietly as you could. You looked back and forth from the kitchen to the living room a few times, making sure he wasn’t looking your way. Just when you were about to open the window, you heard his voice.

“Looks like we’re in business!” he exclaimed, walking towards you with a large bowl in his hands. “Now I know I talk a big game, but I’m like 99% certain that this will be the best popcorn you’ve ever had in your life.”

You whipped around instantly. Every muscle in your body felt tense and rigid. You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out. You just stared at him.

A look of concern flashed across his face. His gaze shifted towards your hands, which were visibly shaking. “You alright?”

“Um…yeah, no. I’m fine, Eddie. I’m just not feeling very well…”

You could feel the pinpricks of tears in your eyes. Shit.

“I think I need to go home. It’s late and I think I should get some s-sleep.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, setting the bowl down on the coffee table. “C’mere, I’ll give you a ride h—”

“No!” you cut him off, your voice louder than intended. Then, more quietly, “No, no, that’s okay, Eddie. I can walk.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s late. I need to know that you got home safe.”

His words made your stomach turn. He didn’t need to know anything.

“No, Eddie. No.” You pushed past him as you walked towards the kitchen counter, where you had left your phone. “I’m just gonna head out.”

“No, wait,” he said, jutting out in front of you. His hands hovered over your elbows. He was really close to you. Way too close. He smiled at you; a nervous, cloying, shifty smile. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You could feel warm tears rolling down your cheeks. Your breath became labored as you struggled to speak. “Please just let m—”

His face fell.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

You reached to grab your phone, but he was quicker. It shouldn’t have surprised you that he ripped your phone out of your hands, but you let out a little gasp when he did. You attempted to claw it away from him, but he pulled it out of reach every time you tried. His other hand was held out defensively, lightly pressing against your sternum as you lunged at him.

“Give me my phone!” you yelled. “Eddie, give me my phone!”

“Baby, what’s wrong?” he asked. Baby. That stupid, sickly sweet concerned look was still plastered on his face. You felt a rush of anger burn through your chest. He really had the audacity to act like he meant you no harm, like he was exactly the person you thought he was, to call you baby. But you weren’t just angry at him. You were also angry at yourself. How did you not see the signs sooner? Were there even any signs?

“Give it back to me now! You can’t just take my phone from me like that. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Calm down. Just calm down! I’ll give it back when you tell me what’s going on,” he said. It was clear that he was slightly panicked, too, trying his best to keep his voice even. “I…I thought tonight was going so well.”

“Yeah?” you mocked. “Yeah? Me, too!”

After one final attempt at reaching for your phone, you gave up and darted past him towards the door. He tossed your phone onto the couch and jumped out in front of you once again, gripping onto your upper arms.

“Let go of me!”

You were hoping if you screamed loud enough that the neighbors would notice, but you couldn’t hear anything outside of the apartment.

“Did I do something?” he asked.

“Oh no, we’re not gonna do this,” you sobbed, backing up against the door. He followed, caging you in.

“What are y—”

“Stop acting like you don’t know what’s going on!”

“Baby, I don’t know what y—”

“I found your room. I saw it. The pictures, the drawings. That’s probably not even all of it,” you said. Your voice didn’t sound like you. It was rough, raspy. “For the last month I thought I had been going crazy, that I was losing things. But you had them all along. All that weird stuff in my apartment—the window, the cabinets. All those pictures…you’ve been following me. Why?”

He stared at you with a look akin to a deer in headlights. Panicked and confused.

“WHY?” you repeated, making him wince.

He let out a breathy sigh, giving you that same nervous smile as before. “I’m sorry, but I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You pushed him only for him to shove you back against the door. He wasn’t smiling anymore. He was examining you carefully, his brow furrowed. It wasn’t a judgmental look so much as a contemplative one.

“When you’ve been manic, have you ever had any hallucinations?” he asked.

“What?” you asked. “No. I don’t have full blown mania, I have hypomanic episodes. You know that. What does that have to do with anything?”

“I’ve read up on this,” he said, as if he was trying to level with you. “After I interviewed you, I did a bunch of research on bipolar disorder.”

Oh, I’m sure you did.

“And I read that if you’re having a really bad manic episode or if you’re sleep deprived, it’s possible for people with bipolar disorder to experience psychosis. Sometimes you don’t even have to be manic or sleep deprived to have hallucinations or delusions.”

Oh my god.

You let out a humorless laugh. “Are you serious with this right now? Are you hearing yourself? You’re really trying to tell me that what I just saw was all in my head?”

“Baby, please just listen t—”

“I thought you were disgusting, but this is fucking vile,” you snapped.

“Come on. It’s me! You know me. Do you seriously think I’m some kind of creep? Do you seriously think I would hurt you, or violate your privacy like that?”

“I know what I saw!”

“Have I ever once made you feel unsafe?”

“YES!” you yelled. “You’re making me feel unsafe right now!”

“Just LISTEN to me!” he yelled, shoving you against the door once again.

You almost screamed when you heard it. A separate voice was yelling in unison with Eddie’s; a louder, deeper, distorted voice. An otherworldly voice. It conjured up an image in your mind of that thing you saw in your nightmare—tangling its way along the walls, tilting its head at you, roaring so loud that it startled you awake.

Maybe you were hallucinating.

“No!” you yelled, pushing him as hard as you could. You ran down the hallway and he followed, grabbing you from behind. You hit and kicked at him, escaping his grasp every few seconds before being trapped once again. You were stumbling and clawing at one another as you moved closer and closer to his bedroom door. “You want to prove this is a hallucination? Let me see your room!”

“Wait!” Eddie yelled, blocking you from elbowing him in the nose. “Nonono, wait. Hold on. We’re not going to my room. I’m not going to entertain this delusion. Okay? You shouldn’t have gone into my room in the first place. Are you listening to me? If you’re having a psychotic break right now, you shouldn’t—”

You kicked him in the stomach as forcefully as you could, catapulting yourself onto the bedroom floor. You landed hard, but you couldn’t focus on the pain in your elbows. All you could see was the window in front of you. It was wide open. You could have sworn that it was closed when you first entered the room. Most alarming, though, was the inky black shadow crawling its way from the corner of the wall, out of the window. Your breath hitched in your throat.

“Wh…what…?”

When you turned your head to look at the bulletin board, there was nothing pinned to it. No photos. Not a single one. Even the desk was free of clutter. No papers, no headphones, no paintbrushes, no sketchbook. The only remaining item of yours were those prints he had purchased, propped up along the wall just as they had been a few minutes ago.

You sat in stunned silence.

Eddie caught his breath, curled up in a ball just outside the doorway. He was cradling his stomach, looking just as stunned as you were. He didn’t make a single move towards you. “Are you seeing anything right now?” he asked breathlessly.

“I…”

You had never cried so hard in your life.

🕷

“I don’t understand. I’ve never experienced psychosis before.”

You were lying on Eddie’s couch with wet hair and puffy eyes. You had asked if you could shower at his apartment to try and calm down, and he was polite enough to let you. He even sat outside the door to make sure you didn’t fall, and offered you one of his t-shirts and a pair of sleep shorts when you got out.

You really didn’t deserve his kindness.

You were lying against his chest, your hands lightly gripping onto his flannel. He had one arm wrapped around your torso while the other lazily played with your hair and massaged your scalp. You were still shaking pretty badly, but his warmth was helping to soothe you.

“Didn’t you switch medications recently?” he asked.

“Yeah. Do you think that could have caused it?”

“I don’t know. Do you?”

“Maybe. I had a weird feeling about it. It was making me really paranoid.”

You were both quiet for a few minutes as Halloween provided the space with background noise. Eddie had asked you if you wanted to turn on something more lighthearted considering the circumstances, but you refused. There was something about horror movies that made you feel safe—like those things were just fiction, the product of a writer’s imagination. Those things weren’t happening now, and they would never happen to you.

The silence between you took your mind to some dark places. You felt absolutely mortified that you had put Eddie through whatever the hell that was. He had been nothing but kind to you and this was how you repaid him?

“You must think I’m insane,” you mumbled, burying your face in his chest.

He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “No. I would never think that. You’re a lot of things. Insane isn’t one of them.”

“It was like I was hearing two voices at once,” you said, your stomach twisting. “Your voice, and this…other one. It didn’t sound human. I’ve never heard anything like that before.”

He wrapped both arms around you, burying his chin into the crook of your neck.

“Tomorrow morning I think you should call your psychiatrist,” he said.

“It’s a Saturday. They’re not open,” you said matter-of-factly.

“Well,” he chuckled. “I think you should call and leave a message.”

“I definitely don’t want another issue like this one. I’m just so tired of all the trial and error. It’s been such a long road for me with this.”

As the credits rolled, you turned and looked up at him. You were about to ask if he was up for Halloween 2, but when you saw the look on his face, you decided against it. He looked a little irritated. How could he not be? You had just accused him of being a stalker and gotten into a full-blown physical altercation.

“Do you want me to go?” you asked. “I can go.”

“No,” he said. “No, I don’t want you to go. I really, really don’t. It’s just…do you ever feel like your life is one monumental screwup?”

“Um. What?” you asked.

“It’s just…it upsets me a little bit, y’know? This is in no way your fault, and I know you couldn’t help it. Hallucinations can be really vivid. But it’s damaging to know that you would think so badly of me to immediately conclude I would hurt you like that.”

Your heart sunk as he continued working his fingers through your scalp.

“Eddie, I don’t think badly of you.”

“Yeah?” he asked, giving your hair a light tug. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“That’s not fair. If you could see what I saw…it looked so real. It was all there when I first walked into your room, I’m telling you. And then it was gone, just like that.”

“What did you see when you were in there?” he asked.

“Pretty much what I told you. Some stuff that had gone missing from my apartment, pictures of me all over the place. It looked like some twisted shrine or something. It was really terrifying. If you saw a shrine of yourself in my room, wouldn’t you be scared, too?”

“Like what, if you were stalking me, you mean?”

You nodded.

“Hah. Well…I can’t say I would be too upset about that.”

“Stop,” you chuckled.

“Kidding, kidding,” he said. “I’m being an idiot. I’m sorry. I don’t expect any kind of apology from you or anything. That wasn’t your fault and you were just as scared as I was. It’s just that all this time I feel like you’ve gotten the chance to see me for what I am, you know? The actual me. Not this horrible person that everybody seems to think I am. It’s been so rare for me to find people that are truly willing to get to know me, and things had been going so well with you. I didn’t want that to change. I’ve been terrified that I’m going to mess it up somehow, and it hurts that, even for a split second, you saw me just like everybody else in my life does.

“This is going to sound awful, and maybe it’s an ego thing, but I kind of…I don’t want you to look up to me, that’s not what I’m trying to say. But I do want you to know that you can trust me. Like, I want to be the one that you call when you need something. Or even just for no reason at all. I want you to feel like you can call me whenever you want.”

“If I called you whenever I wanted, you would probably block my number,” you said.

“No, I definitely wouldn’t,” he laughed, smiling softly. “I just want you to feel safe with me, that’s all. And I want to help you figure this medication thing out.”

You sighed. “I just want to be normal. I’m so tired of this, Eddie.”

“I know. And I know you can do it on your own, but you don’t have to. I don’t want you to go through any of this alone anymore.”

You had a sinking feeling that Eddie didn’t know what he was signing up for. You already felt terrible about what had happened tonight. You weren’t sure if you or he could handle any even remotely similar reoccurrences.

“Eddie—”

“No, I mean it. As long as you want me around, I’m not going anywhere.”

A state of calm overtook you as Eddie shut the tv off. In spite of all that happened, you were overcome with a sense of ease and weightlessness you hadn’t experienced in years. He was just so warm, and he made you feel accepted in the wake of your most embarrassing moment. You were just about to drift off to sleep when your eyes snapped open.

You had never told Eddie that you switched medications.

🕷

shoutout to all my fellow bipolar girlies lol <3 love u, stay safe <3

#yandere marvel #yandere eddie brock x reader #eddie brock x reader #dark!eddie brock #yandere eddie brock

[narcissisticpdcultureis]

Hi, so, I made a lil quiz on controversial opinions and one of them was that narc abuse isnt real and someone disagreed and gave a response that I thought was intriguing, however I am an egotypical so I figured I'd go to this blog to see your opinion on it?

The response was "Know a lot about this topic (got really deep into the NPD) and i gotta say it's fine to say narcissistic abuse. The whole pointttt is that we're all trying to help folks with NPD, narcissistic abuse is real and should be talked about but that doesn't make narcissists evil/unredeemable. Individuals w/ NPD greatly affect those around them, unlike stuff with most cases of like, existential OCD since that's most internalized rather than externalized. I don't have any issue with the term narcissistic abuse and y'know, it's like, not something you're gonna care about in 50 yrs."

i do not know a single person with NPD who felt at all "helped" by narc abuse truthers. no, 99% of narc abuse truthers are not "trying to help folks with NPD," i've never met or seen one who wasn't passively ableist at BEST. most narc abuse truthers are not trying to help, they are not trying to understand, they DO in fact think we're irredeemable and a good portion of them wish to actually wipe us off the fucking planet. multiple times i have seen narc abuse truthers just straight up spew eugenics. most narc abuse truthers don't even actually know what NPD is beyond abuser disorder.

it is true that people with NPD can affect the people around them, but that is not at all a trait unique to people with NPD. narc abuse as a term makes it sound like there is something uniquely abusive about people with NPD. all narc abuse describes is patterns of emotional and psychological abuse, nothing more and nothing less, and those patterns are not unique to us. i have been abused in ways that narc abuse describes by people did not have NPD. if you want a term that literally just means "abused by someone who had NPD," you would need to apply that same logic to every single disorder out there that could possibly have an externalized affect.

even if a term like "narc abuse" worked in theory, the communities that are fostered around it are horrendously and disgustingly ableist. it is the nature of a term like that. blaming the abuse you suffered from someone soley on their disorder not only takes responsibility off of them as a person, but also inherently subconsciously creates negative associations with that disorder and everyone else who has it.

i am going to get a bit vulnerable about something i'm not proud of. i have had a very similar mindset narc abuse truthers have about NPD but with bipolar disorder. i grew up knowing my extremely abusive father had bipolar disorder as he was diagnosed when he was younger. i blamed the majority of his actions on his disorder, it made me scared and paranoid of people who had the same disorder. i even had an old friend who was diagnosed with bipolar disorder while i knew him who explicitly told me he was afraid i'd start to hate him or be afraid of him. and a part of me was afraid of him for it. i was miserable and made other people around me miserable. i had to at some point confront the fact i could not blame his disorder for all his abusive actions, i had to make the disconnect, i could not hold innocent people with the same disorder responsible for what he did to me. it was not their fault, and they did not deserve to be held accountable by association of a disorder they did not ask to have.

i could not imagine how much worse it would have been if i had something like a "bipolar abuse" community. i maybe never would have undid my ableist views. these "[disorder] abuse" communities always inherently create an environment that is extremely negative and hostile towards people with said disorder. you can absolutely have conversations about how your abuser's mental illness and trauma affected the relationship you had with them, as mentioned before my father's untreated bipolar disorder absolutely heavily impacted our relationship even outside of his abusive behavior, but these kinds of communities are not the way to do it.

and actually, this is something i will still care about in 50 years if i have to, but hopefully i won't because hopefully it won't still be an issue in 50 years. though that may be wishful thinking.

#not culture #ableism tw

[eelfuneral]

Some of the discussion that happens within the Star Wars fandom, particularly discussion of the Jedi, can be really upsetting to observe if you have certain disabilities. In fact, I’m having a hard time even liking the Jedi right now because I can’t help but associate them with some really ableist takes that I’ve seen in their defense.

Let me explain: a lot of people with certain disabilities (such as autism, ADHD, bipolar disorder, and C-PTSD) deal with something called emotion dysregulation, which means that you feel emotions more intensely than the average person and that this strong emotional state sticks around for far longer than it should. When you have emotional regulation issues, an event that might make somebody else a bit sad or mildly frustrated has the ability to put you out of commission for hours or even an entire day. Emotion dysregulation is very stigmatized, even in people who go out of their way to avoid harming people or lashing out while dealing with an episode. People with this specific issue are often told that they are “dramatic”, “attention seeking”, or “future abusers” for what amounts to an automatic emotional response that a person cannot control. This constant pushback forms a metaphorical blister that can easily be popped back open when you see anything that reminds you of what caused it in the first place.

Now, let’s move on to the Jedi. While it can be argued that their teachings were intended to instruct people to reign in their BEHAVIOR as a result of their emotions, several lines in the fist six movies sound an awful lot like they are condemning having negative emotions at all. Yoda literally tells both Luke and Anakin that emotions like fear and anger BY THEMSELVES are of the Dark Side, and these lines were very difficult for a lot of people who have dealt with trauma, neurodivergence, or other issues that cause “big emotions”. These lines, intentionally or not, mirror a lot of the things that real people have said to those of us dealing with emotion dysregulation, and people have every right to talk about this in their own spaces unmolested.

Some of the defenses of the Jedi in the context of how they are instructed to deal with their emotions come off as dismissive at best and ableist at worst. Yes, if you dig through Star Wars canon enough, you can find portrayals of the Jedi and emotions that point to a more nuanced view where choices and actions are the source of evil rather than the emotions, but this does not change the fact that the Yoda lines and other emotionally repressive applications of the Jedi Code very much exist in parts of canon. A person who found the emotionally repressive variant of Jedi teachings to be upsetting due to a disability will likely feel as though you are trying to dismiss their feelings and belittle them if you “correct” them for “misinterpretation of the Jedi”. I get that it sucks to see people bash your blorbos, but if someone is doing it because they are dealing with something IRL like trauma or ableism, then it’s best not to engage and just let that person work through it.

I have also seen people who are defending the Jedi make statements that outright attack people for having intense emotions. I remember a take that basically said that you were a baby or a psychopath if you found the Jedi code regarding emotions to be “too hard”. I’ve seen people dismiss the trauma that Anakin went through and its possible effect on how he reacted to some aspects of the Jedi order in a way that mirrors the invalidation that those of us with emotional regulation issues have experienced for being “too much” for all of our lives. Yes, it is important to avoid harming others when you are in a bad place, and no Anakin was not a great person, but so many of these takes are devoid enough of nuance that they read as if they are just trashing people who have “too many”emotions.

Feel free to defend your favorite characters all that you would like, but please spare a thought for those of us who might not dig everything about them for reasons connected to disability and trauma. The Jedi aren’t real, but we very much are.

#jedi critical #fandom ableism

[darklordofthesimp]

Verity II (Din Djarin x Reader)

Since your last encounter with the truth pollen, Din had been avoiding you. However, in a risky attempt to harvest the pollen for later use, The Mandalorian was now under its spell and at your mercy.

PART 1

Requested by Anon: #75 Nothing will ever compare to the way I feel about you.

Tag List: @eclipsedplanet @sanscas @iccedays @buttermybiscuits @that-girl-named-alex @rain-and-a-nice-nap @bruxasolta @princesscy4rika

A/N: I DON'T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK I'VE JUST WRITTEN.

Rating: 16+

Category: Truth Pollen - Angst - Mutual Pining

Warnings: Swearing - Suggestive Themes - Non-graphic Descriptions of Sex

You awoke to a muffled yell.

It was distant but it might as well have been right beside you. The distinct sound of Din's voice was unmistakeable and you were almost trained to listen out for it. At times, your life had depended on it.

This time, though, you were just glad to hear him.

You opened your chamber doors with a press of a button, crisp air striking straight through your skin. This forsaken planet had a bipolar division of temperature, it was either searing hot and you felt like you were being roasted, or it was so cold you couldn't feel your feet on the best of days.

This seemed normal for most planets, but usually it was seasonal, not a day by day change.

"Dank farrik!"

You bolted upright into a seated position and slipped on your boots, afternoon nap long forgotten. The Mandalorian had been gone for hours and you knew he was not searching for the bounty- half of his arsenal was still in the ship.

Wrapping your coat tight across your body, you ventured outside. The hunter was half hanging from an opened panel beneath the wing, a hilarious sight in itself. You couldn't help the snort that ripped from your throat, those dangling boots swaying furiously from his efforts.

The metallic clang from within the hull told you that he had no idea what he was doing and you cringed at the damage control you'd have to launch later.

"What are you doing?" You asked, loud enough to carry through the sounds of metal confusion.

There was another clang as he promptly pulled himself from his 'work' and a grunt to pair with it. Din stood to his full height, brushing his gloves against his thighs.

"I'm trying to change the oil." He said plainly.

You raised your brows, watching as his fingers twitched anxiously. "You know that's why I'm here, right? Your mechanic?"

"Yes," he acknowledged, his tone strict.

Blinking at him, you leaned back on your heels and the pair of you stared at each other, tension building to a thick peak. The hunter let the silence carry, seemingly happy to just watch you, but you ground your teeth.

Things had been awkward, to say the least. Since your encounter with that damned pollen, your companion had done his best to ignore you. It was like he'd regretted that entire ordeal.

You'd be lying if you said that it didn't hurt.

"Why didn't you ask me to do it?" You asked calmly, breathing softly through your nose to center yourself.

The hunter swayed gently as if he wanted nothing more than to leave. He clenched his fists tightly before he spoke.

"I was avoiding you."

You stared at him. There was no elaboration, no explanation as to why, just four words to confirm the fears plaguing your thoughts.

Your chest squeezed, constricting your pathetic, hurting heart to the point of suffocation. You felt stupid, you should have known that it was an impossible situation. The Mandalorian would never involve himself with you beyond an occasional slip of judgement, and that's what you were to him: a moment of weakness. His brutal candour was unexpected but you supposed it was on brand for the hunter.

"Oh," you breathed, hating how broken the word sounded.

When you received no response, you turned on your heels. The familiar tingle across your cheeks and nose alerted you to the tears gathering along your lashes.

The crunch of the frozen grass beneath your feet was deafening, accompanied by the roar of blood rushing to your head. Hot embarrassment flooded your body and snaked its way down your spine.

You were a fool.

"Wait."

You didn't stop walking.

You didn't stop when you heard his steps behind you, you didn't stop when he said it again and you sure as hell didn't stop when you got inside.

Only when you heard the hiss of your chamber door closing behind you, did you finally stand still.

You didn't want to see him anymore, the irrational part of you was already making plans to bail at the next planet. He was a talented man, someone you had always admired from your place as his employee, then as a friend.

But you had always thought he was honest, and the way he was acting now was a clear contrast to that stupid fucking night. You wished it had never happened, you wished you had never even met him. Most of all, if you were being honest, you wished you had never said yes.

"Do you want me to kiss you?"

"Yes."

You only had yourself to blame- and that Maker damned pollen.

A sharp knock resounded throughout your small room and you jumped despite yourself.

"Please," the words were muffled by the durasteel standing guard. "Let me explain."

You bit your tongue, a small and hopeful part of you hoping that he would leave if you didn't respond. Though, you knew better.

The Mandalorian was nothing if not persistent, it's what made him a good bounty hunter. You couldn't hide from him forever.

Reaching for the button, you hesitated, fingers hovering shakily.

Did you really want to go through this again? Did you really want to let him in your room? There was nowhere to hide, nowhere to storm off to, you were vulnerable.

"Please," he said again, as if he could see your apprehension. He knew you through and through. "I want to talk."

You bit your lip and pressed the button, stepping back as the door opened to reveal Din. He stood tall, shoulders squared but his hands were raised chest height, surrendering.

"What do you want?" You snapped, crossing your arms over your chest. You weren't going to wait for the silence, you weren't going to let the situation intimidate you.

Din groaned, a sound that had your brows shooting up.

"You." He said strained, shaking his head roughly. "I want you. But I'm here to explain myself."

"What is your problem?" You threw your hands upward, frustratedly, "why are you being like this?"

"I'm like this," he growled, staring down at you through the visor, "because I can't lie."

You stared at him, mouth agape. "You-"

"Don't talk," the hunter commanded, stepping into the room and herding you further away from the door. "Don't ask questions."

There was a heavy silence as he loomed between you and the exit. He kept a respectable distance, fingers twitching anxiously against his thighs before he finally rested his hands on his hips.

The pollen.

That's where he'd been all this time, it's why he had made a point of avoiding you completely since he'd returned. You supposed it was smarter to hide than to be in a position that you knew all too well.

The Mandalorian huffed, shaking his head, as though he were fighting his own thoughts. You remembered the feeling. He was becoming agitated, though you couldn't tell whether it was at you or himself.

"Well?" You prompted impatiently."

"You infuriate me," he said instantly, voice hard. It was as if your voice had triggered him into speaking. "You don't listen, you don't follow orders, you're a danger to yourself and I worry about you at every waking moment."

"Excuse me-" You snarled, stepping forward. The Mandalorian raised his hand, finger pointed at you with the silent order of 'shut up'.

"You question everything I say," he continued, chest heaving beneath the weight of his wrath, "and you make me irrational."

"Why not fire me then?" You seethed, hot anger flushing through your system. "Why kiss me if you knew you were just going to fucking regret it?"

Before you could register his movement, the door to the room hissed shut, trapping you in the dark with a furious hunter.

Your heart pounded between your ribs, and your wrath guttered to a small ember. You were blind, draped in absolute darkness and left with nothing but your remaining senses.

"I'd never fire you because you're the best at what you do," the words were a soft rasp, close above you. You exhaled shakily, forcing yourself to stay still as he continued talking. "I kissed you because nothing will ever compare to the way I feel about you."

You swayed forward. His helmet was off, you could tell by the rawness of his voice, the humanity of it. A soft, husky rasp that curled deep within your core and fogged your senses, leaving you dazed by every word.

"Do you regret it?" You whispered, barely able to hear your own voice. A warm hand brushed against the skin of your cheek, leaving you trembling in place.

"No," he murmured simply.

"Do you think about kissing me often?" You blurted, unable to stop the words from rolling off your tongue.

There was a surprised huff from the hunter that sent butterflies skittering across your stomach.

"Yes," he said, the tone hesitant but the statement strong.

You stared up into the darkness, hoping that your sights would fall upon his face and that he'd know that you saw him. Not physically, but you saw Din. Every flaw, every strength, every time he'd get scared, you knew him through and through- just as well as he knew you.

"You're sloppy," you murmured lowly, "you've just trapped yourself in a room with me. I could ask you so many questions."

There was a silence, not uncomfortable but contemplative. He was thinking of what to say, the statement was open ended. You were giving him the option to bail, to leave and not speak on things that he didn't want to talk about.

Instead, you heard him shift. His fingers lightly brushed against the length of your neck and there was a soft pressure against your shoulder that pushed you backward. The cold durasteel pressed against the skin of your back.

"Are you sure that I'm the one that's trapped?" Din questioned softly, letting his fingers trail along your arms.

"A hunter to the very end," you rolled your eyes with a snort; but your heart was thrashing wildly between your ribs.

There was a small chuckle but his breath was shaky. You came to a startling realization that this was uncharted waters for the both of you, and he was at risk of losing the most if this went wrong.

"Are you nervous?" You asked.

"Yes."

You smiled softly.

"What do you want to do from here?" You queried, letting your own hands rest against his vambraces tentatively. Despite his vulnerability, you'd let him take the reigns. He was frustrated, he was worried, it was a difficult situation to be in. "What do you want, Din?"

"I want-" Din blurted, and his hands retracted from your body instantly. The words choked as he stepped backward, out of your hold and away from your touch.

Maybe that question hadn't been the right one.

He didn't want to speak. You could sense the anxiety rise within the room, hear his fingers slip over his helmet as he reached for it. He was trying to leave before he let words that he could never retract fall into the space between you.

"What do you want, Din?" You asserted, stepping into his space once more.

"I want to kiss you," he snarled and you heard his hand slap over his mouth hard.

"Oh," you leaned back on your heels, stupefied by his reaction. "Is that all?"

You were confused by his flailing panic, the both of you had already established that you wanted to kiss multiple times prior. It was strange that he'd thought it to be such taboo now of all times.

"No," he strained. "That's not all. Not even close."

"Well, what else?" You raised an inquisitive brow, hand on your hip as you looked out into the darkness.

The silence was only short, but it was long enough to startle you when it ended. Hands gripped your shoulders firmly, walking you right back against the wall you had both drifted from. The air left your lungs softly as he pressed you against it, hot mouth against your ear with a heated snarl.

"Is this payback?" He said heatedly, thighs pressed against yours.

"No!" You gasped, chest heaving against his.

"Fucking feels like it," Din growled fiercely and it rattled your bones. "You want me to answer your questions? Fine."

Your eyes were wide and unseeing, you could feel his lips moving against the skin between your cheek and your ear, breath whispering along the length of your neck.

"I want to drag you from this room and into my bed," he snarled, fingers digging into the skin of your arms. "I want to show you how dishonorable I can be. I want to touch you in all the places that I've imagined and I want you to see me- to actually see me. To know me."

"So," you whispered, "you just want to bed me, is that it Din? You're angry at me because you want to fuck me?"

There was a dark chuckle as he pressed the bridge of his nose to your face hard, breathing you in as he shook his head.

"Of course, I want to fuck you, Cyar'ika." Din rasped. "I'm angry because I want more than that."

"What more is there?" You murmured, turning your face towards his. You could taste him without even touching him, his mouth a hair from yours.

"I want you to be mine," Din said firmly and the words caressed your lips. "I want you forever, what I want from you is here."

His hand pressed against your chest and your heart thrummed beneath his palm.

Your core tightened as well as your lungs.

You wanted him.

It was so hard to breathe, all you could smell was him, taste him, feel him, want him. Nothing mattered but him, your body wanted to trial his, befriend his soul, you were stuck in orbit and his pull was irresistible.

But this could turn to heartbreak in an instant.

Your breath shuddered as you worked the courage to speak. He was waiting, thigh pressed between your legs and fingers gripping your skin. You wanted him everywhere. Mind, body and soul you were drunk on him.

"Do you love me?" You whispered against his lips, anxiety riding the trail of your spine. It was cold but you trembled for other reasons when he pressed his mouth against the corner of yours briefly.

"I loved you before you knew my name," Din's laugh was breathless, but you could feel the tremor of his body. "I've loved you since you stayed, when I went back for Grogu you didn't question it."

You nodded and your affirmation was watery at best, "of course."

"Of course," he mocked you quietly, pressing his lips against yours. "Of course."

He kissed you slowly, shallow at first, letting you crave the taste of him for a long moment. You wanted more and he knew how to draw the silent confession from you, smiling against your mouth when you gripped him tightly.

Only then did he deepen, tongue trailing your bottom lip teasingly. Warm fingers tangled into your hair, palm resting against your cheek as he pressed you further into the wall. There was nowhere to go, trapped between him and the unyielding metal of the ship you were overpowered by his essence.

The sheer size of a man that was built to kill was unfathomable, holding you in his hands with a softness you would never have thought possible of him. But the bounty hunter was masterful and deft with his fingers and senses, and when he led you to your bed in the dark with a grin you could taste, you finally understood.

You truly learnt how sinfully dishonourable the Mandalorian could be. As he murmured sweet nothings, they tasted even better because you knew they were true.

When he whispered how long he'd waited to feel you, how your body felt better than he ever could have imagined, you smiled. Din groaned his worship along every inch of your skin and when he finally took you as his, his growls of appreciation pushed you to the edge. Every word, every whisper against your skin, claiming you as his, sent you spiraling into a drunken stupor.

You believed every broken sentence to fall from his lips as his body moved above yours.

After all, Din couldn't lie.

#din djarin x reader #mandalorian x reader #din djarin #star wars #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x you #grogu #baby yoda #mandalorian

[unforgivenn]

WOLLEMI WHUMP EVENT DAY 3 - THREAT

Caleb's first day as Dominic's pet!! YAYYYYYY!!

CW: False hope hehe, beating mention, Pet whump, Young whumpee, Choking, *deep breath* Intimate and creepy whumper(He's bipolar af too), Kidnapping mention, captivity, fear, psychological distress, Threatening :)

Caleb slowly blinked his eyes awake, expecting to see his small but cozy room around him as the cool aroma of the newly planted saplings would fill the apartment. Although to his demise, he was met with the walls of a dingy room. Probably the basement he thought. His eyes widened as reality hit him. The walk back home, the van, the beatings, the auction.. and then the sight of a mysterious man looking down at him. Caleb pulled at his hair as he couldn't really process what was happening. He gasped heavily, his breath hitching.

T-This is a dream right? I just need to wake up then everything's going to alright.. M-My roommates are going to laugh at me a-any second now and tease me a-about how i panicked over a nightmare right? I-I just need to wait.. Any time now...

As stupid as it sounded, he couldn't accept it. He just.. couldn't. Caleb got up from the mattress turning over to walk towards the door. Just as his hand would reach the door, he fell down with a groan, lifting his head to see the chain around his ankle. He then felt a gloomy presence over him as he took the risk to slowly look up at the figure, his breath catching up in his throat. The man just gave him a smile in response.

"You've finally woken up huh? I was starting to wonder if the drugs I gave you were too strong." Caleb looked at him in horror scuttering back until he felt the wall against him. "No need to be scared kitten.. Well as long as you behave that is" The man gave him a kind smile.. almost too kind.

"Y-You son of a bitch- You motherfucker- Y-You think you can get away with this? T-The police are probably on your trails right no-" He was cut off with his captor tching. "Hope... It's a child's play y'know. Well, you see in this world.. The rich, they get what they want and well.." He continued his voice dripping with fake sympathy and sadness.

"People like you have to suffer because of it. And as much as I hate to say it it's very easy to buy the police with money.. Noone would even bother if a college student disappeared. You would've ran away from home for all they could say!" He said it so casually that one would think they were talking about tea. Caleb glared at him. He wanted nothing more than to just plunge a knife through the man's heart and get out of here.

The man's hand snaked around Caleb's hand suddenly pushing him to the wall. The grip tightened as his airways were cut off. Caleb struggled, lifting his head trying to breathe. The man leaned in close as his breath hitched his new pet's ears. "And well.. I could do things to you and your family too to make sure you don't cause any funny business hm..? Because if you so much as think of defying me again.. Remember this." He hissed, voice completely different to the friendly one before.

"I know everything about you. Your family, your loved ones—they're all within my reach. Cross me, and their blood will stain your hands." Caleb gave a small nod, tears trickling down his cheeks. The smile found the man's face again as he dropped him to the ground ignoring how he spluttered and coughed.

"Well then! We haven't had a proper introduction yet, have we? My name's Dominic! What about you, kitty?"

#whump #whumpblr #whump scenario #my writing #whump community #whump prompt #my whump prompts #whumper #whumpee #wollemi whump event #wollemi day 3 #threat #choking #human trafficking #auction #pet whump #pet whumpee #intimate whumper #whump event #whump writing #writing prompt #writing event #Dominic #Caleb #my oc's #day 3 #I'm actually on track guys! #more of my coffee induced writing<3 #i thought it was going to short af #but turned out decent

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

So at my workplace I (f26) have this employee (m29) who's a part of the management team. He is obviously disabled in some way, but doesn't feel comfortable sharing. Which is fine, no one treats him differently. He just has problems speaking sometimes and is forgetful. However he refuses to tell us any accomodations that would help him thrive better.

The problem is that he doesn't do his work, and whenever we ask him what happened he always claims he lost track of time or that he forgot. We are trying everything. We made a checklist everyone has to do because he said it would help, but he just signs off on stuff without doing and says he forgot. We've tried to help him set alarms to remind him to do stuff, but he turns them off. This has resulted in some pretty serious issues in the past that only impact the people in the next shift, so he doesn't seem to care much.

It's getting to the point where none of his co-workers or the employees who work below him want to work a shift with him. Especially because he doesn't have any sense of boundaries and makes inappropriate jokes, like the other day he asked a staff member if they have bipolar disorder bc "you sound annoyed when you speak to me and you don't sound like that with other people." And I also hate working with him because he just talks all day and doesn't do anything. He also has an issue with women and thinks he's more qualified than me, both because he's older than me, and because he's a man. But because of that he tends to never listen to my advice, and when I tell him he's not doing his job he tells me I'm nagging him like his mother.

He also seems to enjoy getting scolded for not doing his work cause I try to understand whats happening and how we can help him succeed, and he told me the other day that it's basically therapy for him. So I also kinda wonder if he's doing it on purpose, but it's causing real problems, and then he doesn't even use the suggestions I give him.

WIBTA if I asked him to step down? My boss thinks he could still improve but it's been over a year already, and he's doing less than the staff and getting paid more. And it's rubbing the staff and the leadership teams the wrong way because they feel like they have to pick up his slack and do more work.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[astaraels]

Simple Gifts

Debbie and Mickey go gift hunting for Ian. It's not as easy as they thought it might be. Set post-s10, in the same continuity as New Traditions and Keeping Warm Against the Cold. For @lovekenney, thank you so much for your patience and I hope you enjoy! (on ao3)

The task at hand had started out simple enough—Mickey needed to get Ian a gift that was appropriate enough to open in front of the kids. Debbie may have been fine keeping her vibrators and dental dams in the room she shared with Franny, but she’d known Mickey long enough by now—and heard more than she cared to about his and Ian’s sex life—to think that it’d be smart to leave him to his own devices. And in fairness, Mickey had come to her, asking for help in his own Mickey-ish way that only a few other people could understand. So after breakfast, Debbie asked Ian if he could watch Franny—she knew he’d never turn down an opportunity for baby-sitting.

“You be good for Uncle Ian, okay, Franny?” Debbie told her daughter. Franny gave her a big hug and nodded.

“Yep! Gonna play outside today!”

Ian grinned at the little girl and scooped her up into his arms, causing her to giggle with glee. “Don’t worry, Debs. Just thought we’d go to the park for a little while, maybe get some stuff to make hot chocolate.”

“Don’t forget-”

“-her mittens and her hat,” Ian finished for her. Debbie might have felt silly, since Ian had always kept an eye on them when she and Carl were younger, but she was Franny’s mom, after all. Frank and Monica never bothered caring if any of them were dressed properly for winter. Doing the opposite of their example seemed like a pretty sound strategy to her.

“She’s got some snacks in the fridge, too. Hot cocoa only if she’s a good girl.” Debbie tapped the end of Franny’s nose.

Ian chuckled and tossed his niece into the air, just a little bit. “Franny’s always a good girl, aren’t you, Fran?”

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” the little girl cheered. Debbie couldn’t help but smile—her kid really was a good one.

“You coming or not, little miss sunshine?” Mickey asked, shoving his boots on as he thundered down the stairs. Ian’s face lit up at the sight of his husband, pulling him into a quick kiss before Mickey took a full step into the kitchen.

“I’m ready if you are,” Debbie told him, grinning at his lack of grumbling about the very open display of affection. Sometimes it was hard to believe how far they’d come—Debbie still remembered having to storm into Mickey’s old house and practically drag him back to Ian’s side when they were all trying to handle Ian’s bipolar disorder the first time around. He’d been terrified, she knew that now, and sometimes when things got to be too much you just needed someone else to give you that last push to do what had to be done.

Such as now. Not so much because Mickey was scared, not anymore; now it was just him being indecisive. Really indecisive, like nothing seemed to be quite right. And it made sense, at least to Debbie. It was his and Ian’s first Christmas together as a married couple. Of course he’d want to get just the right gift, if what Ian had told her about Mickey’s pre-wedding antics was accurate. Honestly, the mental image of Mickey Milkovich being a bridezilla about his very, very gay wedding was pretty damn funny. She was just sorry that she hadn’t gotten to see any of it.

“Okay,” Debbie said, after they’d gone to what felt like every damn store in the mall. The place was pretty bougie for the South Side, but better than getting some bullshit gift at Goodwill or Costco or something. “Wait—we haven’t been to this one yet.” She grabbed Mickey by his coat sleeve, leaving him no choice but to follow after her. The storefront in question was small and a bit out of the way, almost impossible to spot among all the gaudy Christmas lights that were thrown around everywhere else.

The sign said “Hazel’s Hideaways” in a fancy script, although Mickey barely had a chance to read it before they were inside. The store itself may have been small, but it was crammed full with wood carvings and wood-burned signs; wooden knick knacks of all kinds were displayed on every possible available surface.

“Whoa,” said Debbie as they both looked around. Mickey only nodded in agreement. They stepped around some of the larger pieces on the floor, careful not to fuck up anything that looked particularly expensive. Mickey had some cash left over from his “savings,” at least, so he knew he could afford to get Ian something decent. But some of this shit—like a whole ass deer that came up to Debbie’s shoulder—looked pricey as hell. Not only that, but nothing really stood out to him right away as something Ian might like, but Mickey was not going home empty-handed. Fuck that shit. He would find something for his husband, today, no matter what.

“Hi!” came a cheery voice from somewhere to Mickey’s left, causing him and Debbie both to jump and nearly land on several worryingly expensive-looking items. “Can I help you?”

A very, very short woman about ten years older than Mickey with bubblegum-pink hair sat on a stool behind the checkout counter. She grinned at them both a little too widely, which put Mickey slightly on edge. Thankfully Debbie stepped up to save him; she was way better with people than he was.

“Hi! My brother-in-law is looking for a gift for his husband—my brother,” she explained, like it was no big deal. “But we’ve been all over the place and we can’t seem to find anything that’s just right.”

“Well, I’m sure I’ve got something around there that will be just the thing!” the woman said. She was way too fucking perky, but Mickey nodded his head and clenched his jaw so he wouldn’t say anything too asshole-ish. Normally he’d already be out the door, but this was for Ian. He could put up with almost anything for Ian.

Twenty minutes later Mickey was about ready to hightail it out and call it a loss. They’d been through half of the bubblegum lady’s shit and still nothing seemed right. Even her perky smile had slowly faded—now she just looked all fucking depressed and shit that she didn’t have exactly what Mickey wanted. It wasn’t even really her fault, considering Mickey himself didn’t really know what he wanted, either.

“Hey, Mickey, what about this?” Debbie asked, holding up some weird-looking wooden circle thing. He put down the deer he’d been staring at for the last few minutes and walked over to her, frowning as he tried to figure out what it even was.

“The fuck is it?” he finally asked, giving up.

“That,” said bubblegum lady, “is a family tree wreath. I can customize it with different family members’ names, birthdays, wedding dates…” She gave Mickey a knowing wink and a glance at his wedding ring. He didn’t blush, but yeah, it might have been a near thing.

Debbie clasped her hands together and grinned. “That’s perfect! Ian would love it, seriously.”

“Yeah?” He glanced over at her, and she nodded. Mickey knew how much Ian’s family meant to him. And it also meant that Mickey could have his name right there next to Ian’s, permanently, with their wedding date and everything. And sure, it seemed cheesy and fucking kitschy as hell, but he knew Ian was gonna light up like the goddamn Christmas tree they’d all put up in the living room when he saw the thing.

“All right, little red, you’re the one who knows all five million Gallagher birthdays,” he said. Debbie beamed and gave him a big hug, which only made Mickey roll his eyes, even as he gave her a reluctant pat on the back. These Gallaghers were making him a sensitive bitch. But maybe that was okay once in a while. Not that he’d ever admit to it out loud.

—

Christmas morning dawned cold and bright, the weak sunlight shining right through the tiny opening in Mickey and Ian’s curtains. Mickey could have gone back to sleep, at least for a little while, except for the fact that Franny came barrelling into their room, crowing, “Presents, Uncle Ian! Uncle Mickey!” She jumped up and down, beaming with excitement. “Christmas presents!”

“Your mom up yet?” Mickey asked, barely half-awake. Nothing against the kid, but he’d rather get more sleep, Christmas morning or no. But the little girl was determined, climbing clumsily onto the bed and starting to jump on the mattress.

“She said no presents till everyone’s awake,” Franny told him. “Uncle Ian, wake up!”

Ian grumbled and felt around for the sweater he’d apparently tossed onto the floor in the middle of the night, but still managed to give her a tired smile. “We’ll be up in a minute, okay, Fran?” he told her. “Go get Uncle Carl and Uncle Liam up, how’s that sound?”

Franny giggled, jumping one more time and landing on them both in the biggest hug she could manage. Mickey groaned, the air practically punched out of his lungs, but Ian just laughed at him, the fucker. Then Franny bounced off the bed and scampered out of their room as quickly as she’d run in, calling out for the other Gallagher brothers as she raced down the hall.

Ian said something into his pillow as he rolled over. “What’s that, mumbles?” Mickey asked, shoving Ian onto his back, heart nearly skipping a beat at the sleepy smile his husband gave him.

“Merry Christmas, Mickey,” Ian said, hand going to the back of Mickey’s neck and pulling him into a soft kiss.

“Yeah, yeah, Merry Christmas, Red,” said Mickey, ruffling Ian’s hair to make his bedhead even worse. Not that Ian seemed to mind, though. “Better get up if we want first dibs at coffee.”

Ian shook his head. “It’s Christmas, Mick, you’re supposed to have cocoa, not coffee.” He said it like it should be obvious. Mickey didn’t bother reminding him that his and Ian’s understanding of the holiday were very different—but if his husband said cocoa, then that was what they’d do. Little domestic bitches, indeed.

Mickey had expected Christmas morning with the Gallaghers to be chaotic, and he was absolutely right. Everyone in the house was milling around the kitchen, Debbie handing out mugs of hot chocolate with marshmallows in them, the younger kids ducking under arms as the older Gallagher siblings tried not to spill whatever breakfast they’d managed to scrounge up. Sandy had Franny sitting in her lap and was trying to tame the little girl’s ginger flyaways. Debbie leaned over and gave both of them a loud kiss on the cheek, earning her a giggle from Franny and a soft smirk from Sandy. It was the sappiest look Mickey had ever seen on his cousin’s face, which…well. In Mickey’s own experience, it definitely meant something, coming from a Milkovich.

Finally they were all gathered in the living room, unwrapping gifts and tossing the leftover wrapping paper every which way. Organized chaos—well, disorganized, much as Debbie tried to keep it contained, at least to start with—especially where the kids’ presents were involved. Debbie was the kind of mom who clearly spared no expense when it came to her kid, not to mention Tami and Lip on the other side of the room getting pictures of Fred “opening” his gifts. What that really meant was just Lip holding the baby’s hand pulling paper off some box, but even Ian thought it was cute enough that he took pictures on his phone of every one.

“Here,” Mickey said to Ian as they sat on the couch, squished in next to Debbie and Sandy, watching Franny play with her new Easy Bake oven knock-off. It wasn’t plugged in, thank fuck, but that didn’t stop her from going through all the pieces and parts with ridiculous levels of enthusiasm. Debbie had mentioned to Mickey during their shopping expedition that Sandy wanted to get the kid a BB gun—it wasn’t a bad idea, in Mickey’s opinion, although personally he thought they oughta wait until she was at least six—but that Debbie had vetoed it quite adamantly. Maybe some toy guns were a better idea to start with so she could understand gun safety, at least until she was a little older.

Ian was in the middle of fixing the watch he’d gotten Mickey; he insisted on setting it to the same time as his own, so they wouldn’t have to argue about who was late and who was early. “Oh, shit, I hadn’t even seen this,” Ian said, his eyes lighting up. “Your watch is good to go, by the way.” Not that he bothered handing it over to Mickey, though, as Ian was already pulling the paper off of his gift. Mickey felt his stomach twist almost in a knot—it wasn’t stupid, he reminded himself, it was thoughtful—and Ian’s face split into a wide grin, almost looking astonished as he realized what he was holding. He traced the burned-in names of each of his siblings, ending with his own, his fingers lingering on Mickey’s name and their wedding date.

“Holy shit,” Ian said under his breath, his voice sounding exactly like when he’d turned around in their shared prison cell and seen Mickey standing behind him for the first time. “Mick, this is…” But apparently words weren’t enough, because he leaned over and kissed Mickey, both hands coming up to cup his face. “I fuckin’ love you.”

“Fuckin’ love you, too,” Mickey said, and kissed his husband again. “Debbie helped me pick it out, by the way.”

Ian reached over and gave Debbie a hug behind Mickey’s back. “Thanks for giving my husband a hand, Debs.” His sister grinned at him and elbowed Mickey with a conspiratorial smile before Sandy pulled her into her lap. Franny hopped up into Debbie’s lap, too, causing Sandy to laugh and let out an exaggerated groan. Carl was standing nearby, snapping pictures of them all on his phone with a look of glee.

Maybe there was something to this whole Christmas spirit thing after all, Mickey thought, Ian finally putting the watch on Mickey’s wrist himself. Because as they sat on the couch, surrounded by the people they loved, snow falling outside the windows, Mickey felt happier than he could ever fucking remember.

#leinth writes fic #shameless #debbie gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #sandy milkovich #franny gallagher #sebbie #gallavich #this is so late for the season but i hope you enjoy it lola! thank you so much for being so patient <3

[sombrashe]

obra dramática

this is a repost because my original blog was deleted

relationship(s) valeria x reader

content bipolar disorder

notes as someone who has bipolar disorder I wanted to write something quick about how I feel Valeria would react to some symptoms

"What do you think you're doing?"

Valeria's voice cut through the compound, your argument with her subordinate coming to an end.

"This bitch was trying to make orders in your absence."

Valeria closed the space between them within an instant, a fist full of his hair tangled in her fingers.

"Watch your fucking mouth."

She hissed into his face, to most of her workers you were nothing more than a mystery nobody who Valeria somehow trusted. To the rest you were seen as arm candy, being there during big events in your custom-made mask and even more custom outfit.

You stifled a grin as Valeria cussed him out, taking her knife and threatening him if he ever spoke to you like that again. She threw him back and you watched in glee as he fell back onto his ass.

"As for you." She turned towards you and you tried to put on an innocent look.

"Don't try that shit, come here"

She grabbed you by the wrist and dragged you out of the room and back up to her office.

"I swear I didn't start it this time, honest!" You tried to explain but she raised her hand.

"I'm not stupid, I know him. If he wasn't like a human bullet vest I would have had him executed years ago. That's not what my issue is and you know it."

You sighed and crossed your arms.

"What do you want me to do? Let these rats walk all over me? They're below me, Valeria."

She rubbed her right eyebrow in annoyance.

"God you're so lucky."

You frown and look up at her. "What do you mean by that?"

Your voice was soft, a twang of hurt in it at the prospect that she was using you. She looked through her fingers at you.

"Don't do that"

"Do what?"

You asked genuinely, raising your arms and letting them slap back down against your thighs.

"Make me feel bad."

You opened your mouth a few times gesturing around.

"Make YOU feel bad? What about what you just said? That I'm lucky, lucky about what? That you won't kill me too?"

You got yourself worked up, something she was used to but, hearing the way your voice cracked made her heart drop.

"Come on now lovely, you know I could... would never do anything to hurt you."

She was rubbing your biceps trying to calm you down.

"Then why did you say I was lucky?"

"You're lucky I love you or else I probably would of by now."

She says the second part quieter but you catch it, pouting up at her.

"Have you thought about it? Killing me?"

She was taken aback, "What? No of course not, why would I?"

You shrugged looking down for a moment before continuing. "Sounds like you have, the way you said that."

She shook her head and cupped your cheeks in her hands.

"I would kill any and everyone in the entire world if it meant you would never get hurt, by me or anyone else."

You smile and dramatically swing your arms around her neck.

"I knew it, you big softy."

You placed a gentle kiss against her lips before pulling away.

"So... what's on the agenda for today?"

"Other than your dramatics? Lots."

#call of duty #call of duty mw2 #cod mw2 #valeria garza #valeria x reader #valeria x you #operator writes

[noraigo]

can we please talk about jiang yuelou and chen yuzhi?

if you told me a couple of months ago that i wouldn't get over a series about a hot-tempered policeman and a gentle doctor, i wouldn't have believed you. however, here i am and i cannot fathom the fact that this series is so underrated. the chemistry, the whole plot, the characters: chen yuzhi, jiang yuelou, chu ran, yu tangchun, among many others, are so well-built and i think that just for this, it deserves more recognition.

BUT, i’m solely here to talk about these two. can we appreciate how beautiful their relationship is? i am aware that they fall under the bromance trope, but you cannot convince me they are merely close friends, not when the whole series is based on a bl novel. although they start off a bit hostile (i know, i know), the evident infatuation jiang yuelou develops towards chen yuzhi and vice versa is so romantic. he finds everything the doctor does endearing, from his quiet surprises to the way he’s always trying to help him psychologically. yuelou suffers emotionally due to his bipolar disorder, with violent outbursts and unstability that makes him throughout the series, you get to know that yuelou is not the kind of person to seek help, that he would rather confront everything by himself than ask guidance. yet, somehow — he always comes to yuzhi when he’s uneasy or confused. it’s not a secret in the police bureau either, song rong and sun yongren (the most loyal characters i’ve seen in a series, i have to say) are pretty much aware of his liking towards yuzhi’s company. even jin dacheng himself insinuated that both of them didn’t have an innocent relationship at all.

the hugs, the touches, THE LOOKS! oh my goodness, their stares were the death of me. i am the kind of person who never skips initial and final credits, so i was very eager to know the hospital scene that happens at the very end of the credits, because i was sure it would become my favourite. i was right and i won’t forget the feeling i was experiencing: the look of relief on yuelou to see yuzhi alive before his eyes, but being on the verge of tears because he knew yuzhi almost didn’t make it? it's a mixture between guilt, relief and love, all in one. absolutely delightful. it’s a repetitive pattern though: yuzhi gets in trouble, yuelou goes crazy and once he’s safe in his arms again, it’s like a part of yuelou’s soul is being reassured that the most important person in his life is alive, safe and sound. because, oh my… in the novel, yuelou considers the doctor his zhī jǐ: a person who understands him deeply no matter what, similar to a soulmate. thanks to an user on tumblr and their translations, i could get to know that, in the audiodrama, yuelou’s feels go beyond platonic. “you’re more significant than friends. people touch you, it’s the same thing as them going after my life.” THIS IS SO RAW AND EMOTIONAL, I’M GOING TO FAINT. the fact that even when yuelou and yuzhi were in danger, as zhan junbai was watching them over, yuelou straight up says: (on my own words, as my memory has been failing me lately)

“is there something between us that can’t be said? we're of the same mind.” i’m so... give me a minute, please *inaudible screams and screeches*

one thing i noticed a lot while watching the series is the fact yuzhi is a very gentle, soft-spoken and intelligent character, which already makes him likable (oh, i LOVE kind-hearted characters) but when you see him through yuelou’s pov — slow motioned movements, timid dimpled smiles, a person whose demeanour is described as pure even — he becomes even more lovable and that’s how yuelou sees yuzhi. how crazy in love yuelou must be to stare at yuzhi while doing mundane things, such as having dinner together? absolutely not focusing on the plate underneath him. instead, grinning with doe eyes as he watches yuzhi looking at the snowy night. ROMANTICISM ON ITS PEAK.

however, for me, the most special thing is to see yuzhi reassuring yuelou by holding his hand so dearly, by hugging him out of relief to see him alive too, by cradling his hand on yuelou’s cheek to brush his tears away. THE ENDING, I CAN’T CONTINUE MY LIFE AND PRETEND NOTHING HAPPENED.

yuzhi is slowly passing away on the other’s arms. yuzhi always wants to be near him and it gets highlighted in his final words, he was too wishing to eat tang yuan with now commissioner jiang yuelou. even on death, he’s under the snow with him. even on death, yuelou’s fondest memories are with chen yuzhi, for he keeps their photo together close to his heart despite grieving his absence and having to take care of yuzhi’s little sister. yuelou simply sits on his home all alone, with the emptiest eyes which once had the entire galaxy shared with yuzhi. not moving, not doing anything. i felt like i was mourning with yuelou, i will never forget how he quietly lays down beside yuzhi’s body while crying his heart out when he realized the inevitable.

WHY? WHY IS THE ANGST SO BRILLIANT WITH THEM? THE LONGING, THE YEARNING, THE LOVE. i’m afraid i won’t enjoy anything that doesn’t remind me of them. there was a before and an after in me, it literally reseted my entire smooth brain.

everyone, go watch killer and healer. 37 episodes are definitely worth the time!

just look at them, i will respectfully combust.

#jiang yuelou #chen yuzhi #killer and healer #yuezhi #im late to the party #i know #but i adore them #long post #bromance #not really #you get the idea #opinion #kind of? #whatever its fine