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#not sure if its a mental thing or my meds not working
lesbiacnh · 2 months
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omg i get a little stressed and to cope i end up playing esthetician until 130 am and go to bed feeling worse than before. and like id pluck every leg hair out but haven’t brushed my teeth yet. and after that my skin gets soo bad and im like whattttt why is this uappening.
#text#the past couple of months have been crayzeeeeeee but now things are cslm. but im still 🫨🫨🫨 mentally bc im not in a good routine or anything#it always starts bc im like ‘i need to take better care of myself’ and then ends badly. lol#tiktok ‘everything shower’ joke kinda made me get back into the strange habit of doing the absolute bare minimum + doing everything in one#night and feeling worse. instead of like having a more consistent routine#rly i need to start working out again. it helps me regulate things bc i like to plan ahead lol#im on anxiety meds now so im gonna TRYYYYYY to help myself by getting in a better routine#AND BY THAT. i mean SLOWLY bc ive gone through this cycle before and and starting things all on the same day is a variant of this.#and i gotta get off my phone. my neck fucking hurts from sitting weird and scrolling too long#tiny bit cringy to admit but i want to find a stim toy that i could do the same scroll motion on. if that makes sense#like a smooth peice of metal or something. maybe i’ll buy a little keychain and see if that could replace the motion while im chillin doing#something else#SORRY if anyone does read this usually i reread my posts to make sure im coherent before posting but its 140 something am and im high again#ALSO 2024 resolution im done being high on most week nights. i need to calm down w it#ok last thing bc this is funny#phoebe bridgers song came on while i was driving home and the one lyric was like im not afraid of going back to school…….#and it hit me in that exact moment bc I AMMMMMM AFRAID TO go back to school but im not‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️ it’s fine‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️ i am not gonna#ok goodnight. i brushed my teeth#sabotage this.
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toytulini · 9 months
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mental health just straight up plummeting
#toy txt post#everyday the smallest things have me spiralling into such stupid despair#constantly fighting myself cos every single thing has me wanting to throw up my hands and walk the fuck off bc theres bo point#whats the fucking point!! just despair and exhaustion and burned the fuck out and gnashing at the fucking walls and then spiralling into#a stupid little self pity self hate spiral cos im just a weak stupid little baby who cant handle the real world. plenty of ppl have it so#much worse and havent given up yet so whats my fucking problem? which is so stupid. but i cant logic my way out of this one#so i am simply sitting here feeling so god damn bad#and i dont even really have. a good reason for it. idk. like i dont have a lot of concrete quantifiable reasons i can present about why#i am so goddamn miserable at my job. im just. going insane i need out im performing badly its not worth it theres no fucking point#every day im fighting the urge to just fucking walk off over the stupidest tiniest things that are definitely not worth that kind of#reaction. like yea maybe i do need like mental health meds or smth but i also know. i need out of this fucking. job. but i dont know#like. idk its like my options are just kore of this same stupid bullshit or retail/food service. and like. shout out to retail and food#service. i fucking could not i fucking cannot. but like im reaching that point here too. everything hurts all the time with no reprieve and#all my options just feel like its gonna be ! even more stupid repetitive motions that wont help! like idk! idk what to do. i just#wanna read about stupid little fucking worms and fish but doing that professionally im not sure im up to it and#between me and that career path is thousands of dollars and homework. so#now im the rat instead now im the rat instead now im the rat instead now im the rat instead#trying so hard not to display idk red flag behavior but im Going Insane. i should just start crying at work. why bother hiding it. whats the#point#vent#ig#i should go eat. and waste the rest of my stupid fucking night playing zelda trying to soothe my brain enough to function except im not#functjoning cos then itll be 5am again and ill have done nothing but play zelda and be up too late and go to bed and not get enough sleep#and be a little to a lot late and be miserable and the cycle just fucking never ends#not enough fucking podcasts about worms out there for this#i opened several academic papers on tongue eating isopods to cope and barely read them bc i cant do that at work it takes too long and i get#lost and my productivity is already in the shit and i need to stop being on my phone and i know that but like also if i dont fucking#distract my stupid fucking brain right fucking now im gonna start throwing things and crying#anyway. thats how im doing. bye
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magicalotterlady · 3 months
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I've been in a wonderful mood all day. Limited anxiety, peaceful, just really enjoying existing. Feeling connected to things but zero pressure to live up to unrealistic standards or perfect things. I can do things, and have been today, but I'm also okay if something doesn't happen or fails.
While it's excellent for my mental health and stress levels, it's not very helpful for writing when I'm most motivated by angst, anxiety, and ADHD-induced procrastination panic.
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reserwrekt · 7 months
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I feel like I had everyone fooled into thinking I was normative or "okay" for two years. (2017-2019)
But the thing is, I never said I was. I had started over after my oldest brother passed away and all my friends left me to deal with it on my own.. I had told everyone around me that I'm not okay, that I have all these diagnosis, that I was sui, and I'm sick all the time.
But everyone ignored me. They ignored those parts. Then, when I started showing signs of my problems and disabilities- they'd act surprised. "I didn't think it was that bad."
My situationship at the time famously told me to drive myself to the ER when I woke up with sepsis, beginning stages of shock, kidneys shutting down. And as I was getting ready, I passed out, pissed, and vomited everywhere. It took me not being able to get back up, for him to sigh angrily and take me.
When we got to the hospital, I was stoic. The staff didn't expect anything. When they took my blood pressure, they suddenly started swarming me, ripping my clothes off my body, and scolding him for not calling an ambulance. (Blood pressure was nothing, like I think 50/40 something like that.)
But again, the fact that the ER staff assumed nothing was wrong, taking their time, and then realizing the emergency. I've always been treated like this..
During my hospitalization, the antibiotics weren't working. That made sense, because I've had a long history with antibiotics and already had antibiotic resistant sickness. But I could hear the staff talking about moving me to a critical care unit, in my valume induced haze. I could hear the nurses explaining "sepsis protocol" to each other. I would get woken up to more anticoagulant being injected through my stomach. I could hear them gossip about how they've "never not felt a pulse in a living person." As they started using my feet to check instead.
During this time, maybe I was hallucinating, I was having long vivid conversations with my passed brother. He told me I had a choice to join him now or not.
I put my deadbeat family's grieving, over my own. It was extra hard bc I was the only one supporting my brother, everyone left us alone.. I told him I couldn't. Then I started to respond to the medication (they switched antibiotics.)
For the next year, I felt I had a tie to my brother and we kept having conversations.
I was dating someone who literally wouldn't believe me or even try to empathize (same idiot.)
I asked my brother why doesn't everyone experience this? And he said it was because they couldn't handle it... and he said "look at how you've been.." and he was right. I was starting to obsess over it. I was regretting my choice to live. And then I'd have to wake up, feeling all this grief, next to a golden retriever who wouldn't even acknowledge that I woke up sobbing every day.
I had to get out of there, but because I had started over, the only people I knew, were HIS people..
I didn't trust his friend that was a little too eager to know me, but I didn't have anywhere else to go. I talked to her about some of the issues and how I don't know how to make it on the street as I'm awaiting disability.
Ofc she invited me to live with her, but I knew she had just married a guy she didn't even like. The red flags were there. And I told her on the first day, what always happens in my life. I said how no one ever helps unless they have other motives. I told her about every "family friend" who promised to get me out of foster care. I said EXACTLY how this was going to end, and I was right every step of the way.
I told her "I have severe problems that no one understands. They always say they do, but when I show signs and symptoms, they demonize me."
"No I won't. "
She did.
I told her "every family friend that said they were going to rescue me, went around and told everyone that's what they were doing, and then usually something happens like their partner gets jealous of me or something, it creates problems, and then when they break up, they leave me to die." And literally all of those things happened.
"I'm a licensed therapist." Yeah, and that's the scary part.
Meanwhile her husband was microagressing me the entire time I was there, I had JUST got my disability money (1yr living there) and then instead of being a dick to just me, he started taking it out on her. Then she immediately found ANOTHER Indigenous, two-spirit, Bipolar person to abuse. Then, that person told me that she basically told them that she was ME. She used her photos, but told them to a T MY personality.
All the people around us during that time, had no idea about me or my life. And then I got to see her go on and be successful at MY personality.
So for the past while, the things that I was interested in, that I showed her, shared with her, no longer felt like mine. So now I'm like in a very weird place with who I am.
I basically feel like for the past couple years, everyone ignored the real me, and cherry picked every detail THEY liked. So now I'm just extra messed up.
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samkerrworshipper · 5 months
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lost cause | leah williamson x reader
it’s a little blurb for my hurt girlies
warnings: depression, suicidal thoughts n discussions.
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“Would you let me die?”
You looked deep into Leah’s eyes, the both of you trying your very hardest to fight back tears as her eyes shot open towards you. She flipped you over in your shared bed, switching you from your position as her little spoon so you were face to face with her.
“What?”
Leah’s words were laced with sleepiness, her body had been mere seconds away from sleep but your words had stopped her exhaustive haze, her eyes blinking furiously as they adjusted to the lack of light in the room, trying to gauge your facial expression.
“Would you let me die?”
Your words were murmured into the room, quiet that Leah was sure she stood a higher chance of hearing a mouse running across the floorboards then your words.
“What are you talking about?”
Leah’s voice waivered, trying to figure out exactly what you werte referring to.
“Would you?”
The conversation had been on your mind for days, the thoughts that had been humming steadily in your brain finally coming to surface in the moment.
“No shit I wouldn’t.”
Leah’s voice was as strong as it could be, her Milton Keynes accent coming on strong as she tried to decipher what exactly was playing in you brain at 3am in the morning that had led you to this point.
“Could you?”
Once again Leah struggled to understand the words and meaning of what you were saying. You’d had a impossible month, becoming the fifth arsenal player to be plagued with the acl disease. You’d had surgery two months ago, and revelry wise you were doing great, mentally you were struggling more than you ever had. Leah was working on it with you, trying her very hardest to keep you happy, to keep you alive. It was hard, there were days where you refused to leave bed, days where she found scars on your wrists that made her feel sick for not being there for you how she had to be.
“I just told you no.”
Leah’s voice held strong in the room, the only thing that could be heard was the sound of the two of you breathing. It had been a rough night to some extent, you were being weaned off the pain meds and it sucked, Leah was trying her hardest but she wasn’t a doctor, nor instant pain relief.
“What if I asked you to?”
Your words hung heavy in the space between you, like a weighted medicine ball falling directly between you on the bed.
It had been a thoguht that had been at the forefront of your brain for weeks, but for you, it felt like an obligation to talk to Leah about it, to prepare her for something that was very quickly beginning to feel inevitable to you.
“Why would you ask me that?l
Leah’s hand managed to travel its way down to your stomach, her fingers clutching onto your sharp stomach muscles, the lines were strong and deft, a map across your torso.
“Do you love me enough to just let me die?”
Leah looked directly into your eyes. Did she love you to death? Did she love you to your grave? It was a question that hurt Leah from the inside out. Was it selfish of her to say no, to say that it was stupid of you to leave her for the rest of her life, when you’d promised her forever.
“I know it’s selfish but-.”
“That’s a fucked up thing to say.”
Leahs voice harshly cut you off, the older woman try her hardest to stay composed as she kept her eye contact with you, it was the only glimpse she had into your thoughts, what exactly you were feeling in this moment.
“I know and I’m sorry Lee, but I had to ask.”
Leah shook her head, no you didn’t. There was a billion worlds where you never should have had to ask, to ask permission to live, to ask permission from her about whether or not she loved you enough to let you go.
“Do you want to die?”
Leah’s words struck a deep frown onto your face, like it had been plastered on with sticky tape and glue. It looked wrong on your face, nights like these were normally spent with you being the happiest you ever were, cuddled up in the arms thay you loved more than anything in the world.
“Are you planning on dying, could you?”
There was no illness, no surgery, no life threatening circumstance that could lead to the end of your life, so it was either planned or paranoia and Leah was leaning to believe it was the first one.
“Could I die?”
Her words twisted around in your brain, your heart racing furiously against Leah’s Arsenal hoodie as you tried to digest what she was saying to you, it wasn’t a meal that was agreeing with your stomach, you could feel the word vomit rising already.
“Could you love me enough to live for me?”
The rephrasing of her words made you feel even sicker, like the nausea you got after eating lactose when you definitely were not supposed to.
“You know I love you Leah.”
Leah’s brow furrowed, because yes, she knew you loved her, you reminded her at least once a day. But what about loving her made you want to die, enough to seek permission.
“So could you live for me, it might be selfish, but please.”
Leah’s words invoked an i necessary amount of uncomfortable silence that spread out like a blanket across your shared bedroom, even the dogs lying at the base of your bed seemed to understand the memo, their snores silencing for a second whilst you and Leah just stared at eachother.
“Leah, I can’t do this anymore.”
She knew that, knew that more than anyone this acl injury had been hell for you. Her once energetic and happy girl had changed, into a person that was completely unrecognisable, it hurt her heart and soul, wondering if she’d ever get her girl back, or if that version of you had died out in the pitch with your injury.
“I know your struggling bunny, but I need you to do this for me, I need you to try. If you can’t keep yourself alive then I will fight every single day for you. Suicide is not the answer for you, you have too good of a life ahead for suicide to be your last chapter.”
Leah often reflected, often prayed that maybe, for whatever reason some things were just meant to be, even when they sucked. Maybe, just maybe, life wasn’t supposed to be easy for you. Maybe you were one of the rare few who could handle tough times and still come out on the other end as a loving person. Maybe it was all falling into place because you are a strong person, you are having this experience for the good of yourself. Maybe it’s gods twisted way of loving you, pushing you through the hard times so you can see the good in life. Maybe for you, this is growth, pain is becoming the new normal. Maybe just giving your all was enough, or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe Leah made up things to make her life easier.
She reached her hands up to the loose hair strands that had fallen in front of your eyes, pushing them back behind your ears so you were forced to look at her dead on.
“How bad is it bunny, is it bad enough that you can’t just try your hardest for me?”
You bit down hard on your lip, contemplating the question silently in your head as Leah awaited your response. You stayed silent for a little while, the only sign you were still alive being your eyes blinking every once a while and your chest rising steadily.
“I’ll try.”
The words were pieces, like chunks of oranges sliced up and scattered across a chopping board, and whilst Leah didn’t exactly hear them she managed to put all the pieces together in her brain.
“I love you.”
Her words came out as one big breath. To Leah, you were as important as oxygen, without you she died as well, your contagious laugh and sparkly eyes were what got her through the rough days and nights and she couldn’t even imagine what life would look like waking up without you.
“I love you more.”
Leah smiled at you gently, coaxingly, how you’d look at a injured puppy.
“You could never.”
Leah pulled your body flush against hers, her hand coming up and under your hoodie and coming to rest on top of your heart, the feeling of your organ pumping against her was pure comfort, a luxury that she allowed herself to be granted. She exhaled deeply as she felt the feeling of your blood being pumped all over your body, to your little toes and your tiny hands.
She knew life right now sucked for you, knew just how much a acl injury made you question every single part of your life, but that didn’t matter to her, what mattered was that you weee slive, and in her arms, finding solace in her gentle touches and broad body.
You intertwined your legs with hers, wrapping her warm ones around your cold ones and slowly beginning to relax against her, as your emotional revelation began to fade from your brain, your promise to Leah breaking every single thought that had been marinating in your head.
“Go to sleep bunny, I’ve got you, nobody is harming you in my arms, even yourself.”
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borntobewondering · 9 months
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out of excuses
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Lip Gallagher x Female!Reader (19k) Returning to Chicago results in an anxiety inducing reunion with an old friend.
Warnings: A curse word or two (obviously). Mentions of alcohol and alcoholism. Mentions of drugs and drug use. Mentions of bipolar disorder. Shitty boyfriends. Mentions of mental health. kinda angsty
Author's Note: This is my first time writing for this character, so give me some grace. Hopefully it's something you enjoy reading. I've been a fan of Shameless for the last few years, and I am really excited about this one shot in particular. Also, in this house we believe the song "The F Word" slaps, so don't come for me.
The title comes from "Out of Excuses" by Katelyn Tarver
(divider by @silkholland)
Note: My work is not to be posted anywhere else on any other platforms (aside from my ao3 account)
Masterlist
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When you were eighteen you were so sure that getting out of Chicago was the best thing for you. You thought that it might give you the opportunity to really breathe for the first time in years. And maybe it could’ve, if you hadn’t gotten in your own way and let everything crash and burn.
Sure, you’d had a few good years of pretending you were something more than you are. But something like that can never really last, so you went back to Chicago.
You came home with your tail between your legs. The sorta sad thing about it is that upon your return you’ve found that Chicago fits you like a glove. The good, the bad, and the ugly. It’s taken a lot to be able to admit that to yourself. The only real problem is trying to figure out how you fit into Chicago now.
The whole point of skipping town in the first place was to figure out how you fit into the world at large. You wanted to be something greater than yourself. You wanted to serve a purpose. Med school was the end goal.
Saving lives felt like the ultimate purpose in life. It felt worthwhile. You had, somehow, managed it. Your GPA was enough to get you in, and you knew your way around an essay to get you a good scholarship.
You’d made it through, you’d graduated and you don’t think you’ve ever felt as proud of yourself as you did that day. But what goes up must come down, and, inevitably, you made a mess of things.
You made it to your first year of residency before you kinda lost your shit and washed out. And Chicago, in its own loving way, had always felt like a bit of a shit show, so it felt like the only real place you could return after the year you’d been having.
Since it’d been nearly a decade since you left, it shouldn’t have been strange to see that things have changed. But maybe you just figured it’d always be the way you remembered it.
On top of that it was even stranger to see just how much had stayed the same. Almost like parts of it had been put on pause until you showed back up. 
The worst part is the fact that this city seems almost determined to make sure certain pieces of your past worm their way back into your life. Despite the fact that those pieces no longer fit into the puzzle. You resent it, because of course you do, but you also can’t say you’re surprised.
After about a month and a half of sulking you finally got off your ass and put yourself back in the real world. And a hospital was not an option, it had been made clear to you that you did not fit into that place.
But you could do the medicine. You were capable of that much. So you went for a job within the field, you became an EMT. You ended up being partnered up with someone who had recently been recertified: Ian Gallagher.
Apparently he’d become an EMT for the first time a few years back, he was introduced to it by an ex-boyfriend. At least that’s what he told you. But it ended up going down the tubes because he blew up a van, which sent him to prison. It was the byproduct of an unmedicated manic episode. 
You remember reading about that incident when your mom sent you a link a few years back. And, not for the first time, you were overwhelmed with the instinct to call Lip and check in. But you didn’t. You had your shit together enough to know that phone call would be one you’d end up regretting.
Apparently Ian had also wound up married to Mickey Milkovich, which was a shock and a half. But you decided to pretend like it wasn’t, since they’ve certainly moved past the stage of their relationship where any of that shock is needed or applicable.
Apparently the two of them ran a weed transportation security business during the pandemic. Well, Mickey still does and Ian helps out here and there. But Ian wanted to take a chance at getting his old job back. And he finessed his way into doing exactly that.
Your mother would say it’s fate that you’ve wound up right back in the mess that is the Gallaghers. You decide to think that fate wouldn’t be as cruel as all that. Not to say that Ian is one of the bad ones, he was actually one of your favorites.
But you were put through the wringer at the hands of a Gallagher once, and it was the last thing you ever expected. And you don’t want to get tangled up in their shit again.
You’ve been doing good. You deserve a pat on the back if you do say so yourself. Because you haven’t asked him about Lip once. Even if there are times where it severely nags at the back of your brain as the two of you are driving around. You’ve heard bits here and there, but not because you were asking. Most of the things he’s mentioned have been inconsequential, just slices of life. The most damning thing you’ve heard about yet is Fred, but even that isn’t that bad as far as the Gallaghers are concerned.
The fun thing about being gone so long is that you get to hear Ian’s version of the highlight reel of Gallagher mistakes over the last decade. Each one seems to be even better than the last. Some aren’t that surprising, like Carl’s stint in juvie, but some, well some are hilarious.
“You’re kidding.” You say, glancing over at him from the driver’s seat of the rig. He’s grinning as you finish backing into the station. “I streamed the hell out of that song.”
“They were barely married two weeks before she cheated on him with Steve.” 
You’d heard about Steve. You remembered seeing him around the neighborhood for a few years there. It had gotten a little confusing because you’ve heard him referred to by a few names. Jimmy, Steve, Jack. He sounded like a schmuck. The way Ian tells it, he was.
“I can’t believe that song is about her.” You say as you climb out of the rig and slam the door shut behind you. You walk into the locker room and start unbuttoning your uniform shirt in favor of throwing a hoodie over your tank top. 
“Neither could she.” He says as he stops at his locker on the opposite side of the room. Just as you’re passing the hoodie over your head you hear him say: “Speaking of Fiona.” 
It sounds like he’s hesitating, and you start to get a little nervous as you stick your head out of the hoodie. You fix him with a confused look, one that he seems to ignore.
“She’s visiting for a few days, Kev and V, too, and we’re throwing a party at the house on Friday. You’re more than welcome to come, if you want.”
You know it’s not as casual as he’s making it sound. It’s an outright invitation. He’s asking you to step foot in that house for the first time in years and find yourself right back in the center of all of the Gallagher bullshit. All it does is send off alarm bells in the back of your mind. 
“Ian.” You say, your tone filled to the brim with warning as he looks over at you.
“Look, I know what you’re gonna say. And it’s not a bad idea. It’s just a party. And you’ll know everyone there.”
He’s trying, and it’s commendable. But it doesn’t mean it’s convincing.
“Come on, this doesn’t have to be about him. There’ll be plenty of other people there, you can just pretend like he doesn’t exist.”
That’s harder than it sounds, you should know. You’ve been trying for the better part of the last twelve years. 
“Please.” He tacks on, right as you’re about to say no. Because it’s like he has a sense for these things, and you really don’t need the kid to beg. 
“Fine.” You say, grabbing your bag from the hook in your locker and shutting the door behind you. He grins in triumph as you both start walking back out into the ambulance bay. “What time?”
“Seven.” He says as he quickly checks his phone before slipping it back in his pocket. “It’s gonna be great.”
“I’m sure.” You mutter under your breath, sarcasm dripping from every syllable.
The two of you walk in silence for a little bit as you wrestle with the train of thought your brain has settled on. You slow in your pace a little, and Ian has gotten a little ahead of you. And you just can’t help yourself anymore.
“Hey, Ian,” You call, and he turns back to look at you. There are a million things you want to ask. There’s one that really weighs on your brain. But you can’t bring yourself to actually put them out there in the world. So, instead, you say: “Did your brother ever get his shit together?”
He doesn’t say anything, but the resounding laugh is answer enough as he waves goodbye and leaves the station for the day. Leaving you alone to wonder what the hell you’ve gotten yourself into. 
— — —
The best thing about September is the weather. You’re just coming down off the last dregs of an August summer while being ushered into the early fall breezes of early October. It’s perfect. 
It’s the one thing putting a spring in your step as you brush the tips of your sneakers against the pavement to slow your bike in front of the Gallagher’s chain link fence. 
Luckily enough for you the person you’re looking for is sitting out on the front porch steps. You don’t even bother to tamp down your grin as you climb off your bike and walk it into the bounds of the property. 
He’s watching you with an appraising eye. The kind of look that only someone who thinks they know everything could possess. His gaze is intent as he pulls the cigarette from his lips and blows the smoke out towards the sky. 
It’s a nasty habit for a fourteen year old to have picked up, but it’s been years by now. But neither of you have ever known any different.
“What are you doing here?” He asks, and you roll your eyes with a shrug as you walk over towards the steps and sit down next to him.
“Mom picked up an extra shift. The house was too quiet.” It’s nothing out of the ordinary. It happens a few days a week. It kind of sucks being in the house alone most of the time, so you go to the one place where quiet seems to be an alien idea. 
He doesn’t say anything. He just nods as he lets his gaze travel back to the street just beyond the chain link fence. A comfortable silence falls over the two of you.
It’s odd because you’ve always hated the quiet because when it’s quiet it means that you’re alone. You need noise and the comfort that comes with the knowledge that other people are around. It’s part of why the Gallagher family feels so inviting. Feeling alone in that house is nearly impossible with how they’re all on top of each other.
But quiet with Lip doesn’t feel quite as suffocating as it normally does. It feels as comforting as the wailing sounds of a crying baby and the thumping of a stereo from a late night Gallagher party that you can hear from your house a few streets over. 
It doesn’t feel like loneliness when you’re sitting next to him, even when you’re not saying anything. You don’t really understand it, you’re not sure you ever will. But you can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever be able to feel that way around somebody else. 
He holds the cigarette out towards you, almost in jest like he has so many times before. He lets it hang there between the two of you without tearing his gaze from the neighborhood. 
You don’t smoke, he knows that much. Well, you don’t smoke like he does at the very least. So, it’s almost comical how his head snaps in your direction when he feels you take the cigarette from where it’s pinched between his fingers. 
“What’s up with you? You don’t smoke.” Then, as if to further prove his point, you choke on the inhale. His hand comes to rest on your back, and you feel him start to rub gentle circles between your shoulder blades to coax you through the coughing fit. 
“You’re right. I don’t. It’s a terrible habit. It’s like you’re just begging for lung cancer to come knocking at your door.” You say, yet in the very next second you go to take another drag. You cough on it once more and he shakes his head as he takes the cigarette from your hand.
“Yeah, that’s enough of that.” He brings the cigarette back to his own lips and you watch as he takes a drag. You watch the ease that comes with it, the kind of ease one can only have once something becomes second nature. 
You watch as the smoke billows easily from his lips and you can catch him glance at you from the corner of his eye. 
“So,” He says, “What’s got you all wound up?” 
You’re not even sure where to start. You knew high school would be no picnic, it’d be nowhere near close to a walk in the park. You aren’t naive enough to believe it would be. You just didn’t expect all of the high school life shifts to come careening towards you at full speed before the first month has been checked off the calendar. 
There’s this boy, Adam. He’s a grade older, a sophomore, and he’s on the baseball team. He’s popular, kind of. But he’s not like the other kids on the teams. The rude ones, the guys who only use girls for their own status. He’s sweet, and he’s funny. He’s passionate about the things he’s interested in. He’s interested in you.
You met him in biology. You’re a year ahead and it’s always a little awkward to be the lone freshman in a classroom full of sophomores. 
This time around you hadn’t been lucky enough to be placed in the same class period as Lip. That would’ve made it all easier. The two of you would’ve been thick as thieves and you wouldn’t have needed to venture beyond your comfortable little bubble. 
It’s a closed ring, the two of you always have been. There’s no need for anyone else to be invited in. And you’ve liked it that way. You’ve always preferred it if you’re being honest. But it’s not the way the chips fell this time around.
So you’ve had to talk to new people. Your teacher partnered you up with Adam, and it was awkward at first. You aren’t really that great at talking to people, least of all new people. 
It’s hard having to learn people and letting them learn you. They don’t just have the common knowledge of all of your little abnormalities and idiosyncrasies. You have to give them a chance to catch up. They need time to study and so do you. Studying has never been so exhausting. 
But he made it so easy. He didn’t let the awkward quiet linger, and it did wonders to settle your uneasy heart. It was like he made it his personal mission to get you to smile, or talk about literally anything other than science. 
And you like it. You surprise yourself with how much you like it. You like the feeling of letting someone know you. You like the feeling of sharing bits of who you are and watching as they are well received. It’s a strange kind of exhilaration. You find that you don’t want it to end. 
You know there’s plenty of time between now and the end of the school year. But it could all be over in the blink of an eye, and you don’t want that to happen. You want to hold onto this, but you’re worried you’ll end up holding on too tight. But maybe you aren’t. Maybe you’re clinging to it with just enough force. 
Because talking and joking seems to turn to flirtation right under your nose. Your stools are pulled the least bit closer at the lab table with each passing day. The smiles are a little surer and the glances last a little bit longer. Time seems to expand and the moments are beyond fleeting. 
You just never expected it would actually get this far. You thought it would be something you get to hold onto until he decides that he’s done with his fun and games. Until someone infinitely more exciting comes along because you just can’t comprehend the idea of you being interesting enough to hold anyone’s attention for very long. Let alone someone like him.
Clearly you’re the least bit wrong about that because he asked you out. He asked you on an honest to God date, and you’re not sure what to do. Well, you said yes. 
You said yes because you weren’t sure what else to do. You’ve never been asked out before. You’ve never even had anyone say they had a crush on you. You’ve never been put on the spot like that before, so you don’t know how you’re even supposed to react.
Yes seemed to have been the right answer if his smile was any indication. There’s been this constant buzzing beneath your skin ever since. It’s getting a smidge out of control, and you don’t know what to do. You don’t know how to shut it off. You don’t know how to get rid of the sprig of anxiety that’s growing into a full blown vine that is coiling in your stomach. 
You just don’t know how to talk about it. You don’t know where to start. The beginning doesn’t even feel like enough. 
“So, you know that kid Adam in my biology class? The sophomore?” You ask, sparing the slightest of glances in his direction from the corner of your eye as you smooth your palms against your thighs.
“The baseball player?” He asks, and you nod as he brings the cigarette back to his lips, “What about him?” 
“He, uh,” You start, taking a bit of a breath as you feel your palms start to sweat. “He asked me out.”
There’s a marked lapse between the inhale and the exhale. You think maybe he’s buffering, or maybe time itself has frozen. Maybe all of Chicago has ceased to an abrupt standstill. Or maybe you’re just dramatic. Maybe you’re reading into things that aren’t really there. 
Because then he’s blowing smoke, and it’s guiding itself out into the yard. You watch as it dances above the posts of the chain-link fence. It’s almost like it’s paving a trail. It’s like it’s lighting a path for a quick getaway. Whether it’s for you or him, you’re not sure. 
“Okay.” He says, the word is suspiciously drawn out. It’s not the way he usually speaks. He’s not usually the type to be drawn out. He’s more than a little crass. His time is worthwhile; it’s important. He’s not the type to like having it wasted. 
You can feel his eyes on you again, and you can tell he’s waiting for the truly revelatory part of this story. So, someone wants to take you out. What’s the big deal about that? How could something as simple as that have you so on edge?
And he must immediately think of the worst possible scenario, because he says:
“He’s not forcing you into it, is he?” He asks, and you shake your head vigorously. It’s not some strange kind of blackmail situation, and it’s not like you’re going out with the guy just to get him to leave you alone. He’s cute and sweet. And therein lies the problem. 
“No, no. It’s nothing like that.” You say as your nail scratches against the denim by your knee. “It’s just…”
You really weren’t planning to talk to Lip about this. Mostly because it’s embarrassing. And he’s the last person you want to discuss these fears with. But it seems like he’s your only option. 
Your mother would flip her lid if she knew about this date, she’d demand to chaperone and then she’d need to try and get someone to cover her shift. It’d be a whole thing. 
She’s a little overprotective. She’s more than a little in denial about the fact that you’re growing up. So she’d absolutely hate to hear that you’re worrying about kissing boys.
It’s not like you really want to confide in Lip about this either. You’re sure it’ll make you seem even more juvenile because he’s definitely more than experienced in that arena. 
You’d have to be stupid to not notice the way half the girls at school look at him. You know he’s gone far beyond kissing. He’s been intimate with people in ways you’re not even prepared to be thinking about, let alone following through on. 
You don’t think things with Adam will get as far as Lip has gone with people. Hell, you’re pretty certain you’ll never go as far with Adam as Adam himself has gone with his past girlfriends. You’re not ready for that, and your mother always says there’s a strength in knowing where your boundaries lie. And you don’t take kindly to being pushed.
“It’s just…” He echoes, and his head is turned in your direction now. You have his undivided attention. You kind of wish you didn’t. 
“What if he kisses me?” You ask, and he shrugs as he brings the cigarette back to his lips. 
“Then you kiss him back.” He says it like it’s obvious. And, well, it is. If he kisses you, then you kiss him back. If you want to at least. And you can’t see why you wouldn’t want to. Except…
“But I’ve nev-” You cut yourself off as a blush of shame blossoms on your cheeks as you look back at him. It doesn’t take long for the penny to drop. The aha moment is quickly upon you and you watch as the beginnings of a shit-eating smirk take form on his lips. 
“You’ve never kissed someone before.” He says, and it’s like he’s struck gold. It’s like he’s never heard better news. And then, as if he wants to drive the knife in further, he starts laughing. He laughs and your heart sinks in your chest.
“You’re such an asshole.” You say as you push up from the porch steps and start off towards your bike. But you don’t get very far before you feel his hand wrapping around your wrist. Not tight, it’s impossibly gentle, and it’s enough to stop you in your tracks. 
“I’m sorry.” He says, even though he’s still trying to tamp down his laughter. You fix him with a disbelieving stare. “I just figured you would have kissed someone by now.” 
“It’s not like I’ve ever really been presented with an opportunity.” You’ve never gone to a party, you’ve never been in the middle of a game of spin the bottle or snookered into a round of seven minutes in heaven. 
You’ve lived the entirety of your life up until this point without basking in the glow of any sort of romantic attention. So how could you have ever been in a position to have kissed someone? How are you supposed to be ready? How are you supposed to seem like you’re not entirely out of your depth with this boy?
“What are you so nervous about?” He asks, and it seems like he genuinely cares as he guides you back down onto the stoop beside him. 
“What if I’m bad at it? And what if the kiss is awful and it ruins the memory of the whole night and then he never wants to see me again?” It’ll make biology really awkward going forward, that’s for sure. 
“You’re not going to be bad at it. You just have to go slow with it. Thinking about it is way scarier than actually doing it.” He says, and you want to believe him. You really do. But you’re not sure anything he has to say can really do anything to settle your anxieties right now. 
“I just-” You don’t get to finish. The words are pulled from your mouth by the feel of his lips pressing into yours. You freeze. You can feel his hand slowly sliding up your arm from its home on your wrist. 
He goes slow with it, just like he told you. It’s gentle, and the movement of his lips against yours feels like it’s going to last forever. You feel like he can’t possibly move any slower, and, much to your own surprise, you’re growing impatient. 
It only occurs to you that you should kiss back after several seconds. But you realize it a little too late. Because he pulls away as you’re about to push the least bit forward and move your lips against his. 
His forehead is leaned against yours for a few seconds after the fact, and he exhales the smallest of laughs as the beginnings of a smile pull at the edges of his lips. 
“There,” He says, pulling back just slightly enough that he can catch your gaze, “Now you’ve kissed someone.” 
“Yeah.” You say, even if it completely lacks volume, as he raises the cigarette back to his lips and takes another drag. Leaving you to sit there to battle the butterflies in your stomach and wonder if kissing anyone else could ever come close to the feeling of kissing Lip Gallagher. 
— — —
You’ve nearly talked yourself out of going to this party four times already. Once each day since Ian invited you, and again right now as you stare at your reflection in the mirror. 
You’re ready to leave. You’re dressed, although not too nicely because it’s just another Gallagher shindig. You did your makeup in more painstaking fashion than you have in years. You look great, but the more you stare at yourself the closer you get to convincing yourself to just stay home.
You could always just make up some bullshit lie about a stomach bug, and tell Ian that you just didn’t want to chance getting anyone else sick. Dealing with his disappointment will be a hell of a lot less daunting than actually going to this party.
But then your phone beeps, and you see a text from Ian about when the food is going to arrive. You feel the smallest bit of guilt gnawing at your stomach as you take one last look in the mirror. Even if you’re going to regret this it feels a little too late to back out now. 
So you grab your bag and you head for the door. You take the L and then before you really even know it you find yourself walking down North Wallace. 
You’ve walked the street a million times before, and, despite how long it’s been, the pavement beneath your feet still feels like it’s guiding you home. But the warmth of it suddenly runs cold once you come to a stop at the chain link fence surrounding 2119. 
This house has never felt intimidating a day in your life. It used to be a good place. A place where you felt you fit in, one of the few places where you felt like you fit in. The people in this house cared about you, more than most people in your life did. You honestly felt like you were a part of their family and that came with a lot of good and bad. The one thing you can give the Gallaghers is their penchant for extreme loyalty. They’re hard to shake. You’ve never really known anyone else like that.
You haven’t realized how much you’ve missed the strength of that. 
But you still hesitate at the edge of the sidewalk. The lights are on in the house, and you can hear the music pouring out of it. One thing about a Gallagher shindig is it’ll be far from quiet. It’ll wake up the neighbors, and ruin the peace of the new South Side people have been trying to build. 
You hesitate because there are a million things running rampant in your mind. You think about snowmen built in the yard with frostbitten cheeks and winter coats with the stuffing falling out of them. You think of when Lip helped you learn how to ride your bike, despite the fact that he’d never actually ridden one himself. You think about how you fell off said bike and scraped your knee on the pavement. 
You think of the shitty pool the Gallaghers would put up in the backyard during the summer months. It reminds you of pool parties, and laughter, and it reminds you of daycare. It reminds you of barbecues. It reminds you of everything. Everything you’ve tried so hard to forget.
But the universe seems determined to make forgetting absolutely impossible. So what better to walk yourself into the universe’s plan than to unlatch the gate on the chain link fence, and walk yourself up to the door. You do have it in yourself to reconsider, only for a second, before you raise your hand and knock. 
The party seems to quiet slightly at the sound of it, almost like they weren’t expecting another guest. A part of you wonders, for the first time, if Ian didn’t tell them that he’d invited you. Because that will be just another ring of hell in this already unpleasant evening. 
But then the door opens up a few seconds later, and you’re less than surprised to find your coworker on the other side of it. You’re fairly certain you’ve never been more thankful for him. Having to deal with a more unfamiliar Gallagher this early in the evening might be a little too much for you to handle just yet. 
“Thank God it’s just you.” You mutter under your breath as you step into the entryway of the house and start to drop your coat from your arms. You hear him laugh behind you as you hang your coat up on one of the hooks.
“I was starting to think you wouldn’t show.” He says, and you roll your eyes as you pull your phone from your pocket to check the time.
“Yeah, well, I almost didn’t.” Your phone slides back into your pocket with ease as you turn to look at him. There’s a beat of silence before he’s tilting his head toward the living room and heading off in search of the rest of the family. You follow behind him. 
The party seems to have congregated in the kitchen, and once you pass under the threshold it’s like everything pauses. 
Everyone, except for Mickey, seems surprised to see you. Not necessarily in the way of a black sheep showing up to a gathering after years, but in the general way that they honestly never expected to see you again. But they’re not disappointed about it. Well, at least most of them don’t seem to be. 
It’s a room full of familiar faces, but your eyes seem stuck on one in particular. And it feels safe to say the same for him. He’s off by the kitchen table beside a blonde woman with a toddler at his feet. He’s slightly slack-jawed as he looks at you, and somehow this already feels worse than you thought it would.
— — —
You walk into the bedroom at the end of the hall like it’s second nature. Your backpack is disposed of by the dresser and you flop down onto Ian’s bed, with your head landing at the foot of it, almost immediately. A long suffering sigh escapes you before you can do anything to reel it back in. 
“What’s wrong now?” You tilt your head back a little to catch sight of a familiar redhead at the desk. He hasn’t pulled his gaze from the laptop screen and he sounds borderline disinterested.  But you know better. You can tell by the small hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth that he’s amused by your plight. 
You watch him for a second, you don’t even bother to try and sneak a peek at the laptop screen. You don’t know where you’re really supposed to start. The information may very well be above his pay grade. Or it might just be that you know it’ll come back to bite you in the ass if you tell him. 
But it’s eating away at you. It’s gnawing at every part of you, and it’s starting to drive you mad. And it’s a silly thing to go mad over. It’s a pointless thing to dwell on, but you can’t seem to work your way around it. 
“That stupid dance is this Friday.” And, for once, stupid truly is the right word for it. It’s the school’s solution to prom for the underclassmen. It’s two weeks before the big event for all the seniors, and the rest of you are allowed to gather in the high school gym for a literal pity party. 
Usually, they have it conceived as some sort of Sadie Hawkins dance. Where the girls have to ask the guys and you’ve yet to see that end well. You’ve heard too many stories of bad rejections and let downs that are far from easy. 
On top of that, you’ve had to listen to Adam, your boyfriend of the last seven months, so it’s safe to say the date went well, lament about how the whole concept of a Sadie Hawkins dance is dumb. 
You’ve heard you don’t even know how many iterations of the sentiment that they should just leave the asking to the men and the girls should just sit around and wait. It’s safe to say you despise this ideology. And, over these last few months, you’ve kind of grown to despise Adam.
Especially with the rest of the situation with this dance. 
See, Adam has positioned himself on the planning committee for the dance. Which is something you never expected him to care about, but boy does he care. 
Furthermore, he’s been championing the idea that the rule for the dance shouldn’t be that the girls have to ask the guys, but that you have to ask someone who you’re not romantically involved with.
He claims he’s heard of tons of parties doing it. Weddings and even the Met Gala. And, wow, if the Met Gala does it then you should too, right? Note the sarcasm.
He thinks it’s a brilliant idea. He’s rather proud of himself, actually. And, since he managed to talk a few of his baseball buddies into joining the committee, the idea won out over the age-old Sadie Hawkins tradition.
As if that’s not enough to piss a girl off, he’s stupid enough to be talking to you about the list of girls he’s trying to whittle down this week. 
He’s sure that any one of them will fall at his feet and say yes. He’s certain that he’s a coveted enough part of the high school eco-system, a high standing figurehead of your fickle status quo, that any girl walking those hallowed halls should jump at the chance to be the one hanging on his arm on Friday night.
Turns out that sweet guy you met in September is not the guy he actually has turned out to be. You don’t know how you got it so wrong. You don’t know how you read the signs so poorly. You’re kicking yourself over it every day now. 
You’re this close to begging your teacher for a lab partner reassignment, even though the year is almost over. 
The world is this dumbass’s oyster, and he doesn’t seem to notice how this whole thing may be problematic for the relationship he’s actually in. Even though, if we’re being honest, you’ve had one foot out the door this whole time too.
Realistically you screwed the pooch before you even went on that first date. Kissing Lip had been the beginning of the end, and you hadn’t even officially made it to the starting line yet. 
But that’s not the point. At least, not entirely. Not right now. The main point is that Adam is a schmuck, and you really need to break up with him. Second to that is that the dance is in three days and you still don’t have a date. Then, directly under that as a little subheading, is the fact that there’s really only one boy you want to go to the dance with. 
You tell Ian as much, well, aside from the glaringly obvious fact that the boy you want to take to the dance is his older brother. Because Ian, despite his incredible ability to keep his own life to himself, cannot hold onto a secret to save his life if he thinks that secret becoming common knowledge would be beneficial for the people he cares about.
It’s sweet, you can’t deny that. Even if it’s misguided.
However, you’re quick to find that you don’t need to say it out loud. He knows, and he isn’t going to let you shy away from it. Not this time. 
“So just ask Lip to go with you.” He says it like it’s simple. Like it’s the easiest thing in the world to do. Maybe it should be easy. Maybe you shouldn’t be so nervous about it. It’s just Lip, right? You’ve known him since fucking kindergarten. It shouldn’t be so hard to ask him to go to a dance with you.
Besides, it’d be strictly platonic. It’s not like the invitation has any inherent romance in it. You’re technically still with Adam, even though you’re certain you won’t be after Friday night. 
You’re pretty sure that should sadden you. The failure of your first relationship should be somewhat of a sinking, heart shattering feeling, but that couldn’t be further from how you feel. 
It’s almost a relief. It feels like a weight off your shoulders. It’s a separation between you and a person who has turned out to be nothing like you believed. It’s a good thing. It will be a good thing. Once it’s actually officially over.
“I can’t just ask Lip.” You say, your eyes had traveled to the ceiling during your ramble. You take notice of the water stain that’s forming over his bed. It reminds you of the one by the closet door in your bedroom.
“Why not?” He asks, laughing slightly at the disappointment in your tone. You sound a bit like a whining child. You’re choosing to ignore it. 
“Because Lip doesn’t go to dances.” It’s true. He wouldn’t even go to them when you guys were kids and they were during the school day. He’d just sit in the classroom and one teacher would have to hang back with him. 
Girls have asked him to homecoming and he’s said no. He’s just not the school dance type of guy. He thinks they’re dumb. You believe the word yuppie has been thrown around a time or two. It doesn’t matter that you’re his best friend, he’d still say no. It’s the principle of the thing and all that.
The last thing you need is the humiliation of that rejection weighing down on your shoulders. Especially since your feelings towards Lip have shifted little by little these last few months. That kiss was really like throwing someone in the deep end and expecting them to be able to swim.
All of a sudden you were submerged in this confusing sea of feelings for your best friend, and, some days when you were less than careful, you found that your head was often dipping below the water. It has been too much. 
A rejection to something like this, even though you agree that the dance is stupid, would do a number on your self esteem. And that’s really the last thing you need right now. 
“He’d go for you.” Ian says, and you tilt your head back once more to catch his eye. He seems serious, and it makes an uneasy feeling settle in your stomach. It feels dangerously like the beginnings of hope, and getting attached to the idea of that won’t do you any good.
“It’s just-” You start as you sit up on the bed and grab the pillow from the head of the bed. You pick at the fraying edge of the pillow case as you look over at him. “He’s my best friend, I don’t want to ruin that.” 
You hear the slightest of exasperated sighs as you bring your gaze back up to him. You watch as he shuts the laptop and gathers it under his arm as he stands from the desk. He fixes you with a look, one that says he’s more than a little tired of having the same conversation. You always seem to be going in circles.
“You never know what he’ll say until you ask him.” He says, and it’s meant to be this pearl of wisdom. Something to propel you the least bit forward. You’re not sure it’s going to work. “Besides.”
You look up from the pillow to find him standing in the doorway, there’s a smirk on his face and you already don’t like where this is going.
“He doesn’t usually kiss his friends.” Your mouth falls agape as he grins in triumph, but you aren’t stuck in the shock for long. You regain your senses and chuck the pillow in your hands at the back of his head as he retreats down the hall towards the kitchen stairs.
The timing must be perfect though because Lip happens to be passing by him in the hall as the pillow comes soaring through. He catches it before it can make contact with the ground because your aim is absolutely horrendous and there was no way you were actually going to manage to hit your target square on the back of the head.
He passes through the doorway to the bedroom and fixes you with a confused expression as he drops the pillow to the right of you.
“What was that about?” He asks, and you shake your head with your best poker face as he drops his backpack at his feet from where he stands by the desk.
“Nothing.” It’s not important enough for him to really care. He shrugs as he settles down into the chair. He pulls a notebook from his bag, and you focus on the way the metal is spiraling out of the notebook towards the bottom of the spine.
You pull a binder from your bag and flip through it until you find your assignments for the evening.The two of you went on like that in silence for a while. With you working on algebra while he wrote someone else’s essay on Romeo and Juliet.
Your conversation with Ian eats at you all the while. He’s kind of right, even if you hate to admit it. Lip may have grown up in these last few months, although you highly doubt it. 
Or maybe he’s in a giving mood and would be willing to help a friend out of a bind. Because, honestly, you’ll be damned if Adam shows up to the dance with the head cheerleader on his arm and you’re going stag. 
There is no other guy in your school that you’d feel comfortable asking, at least not without the knowledge that they won’t expect anything from you at the end of the night. 
Lip is a safe choice, he’s always been a safe choice. You trust him. Your mom trusts him if her consistent hinting that the two of you should get together is any indication. 
So maybe you should just ask. Maybe you should bite the bullet and risk staring rejection in the face. The worst he can do is say no, right? 
“So, did you hear about the dance?” You ask, trying to train your voice to sound less nervous than you feel. 
“The one on Friday?” He asks, and you nod your head only to realize that he’s not actually looking at you.
“Yeah.” You say, flipping your pencil around and erasing the wrong answer that you had just scribbled down under question seven.
“Kinda hard to miss it.” He’s right, there are posters plastered around every corner at school. “It’s stupid. It’s just an excuse for guys to cheat on their girlfriends.”
He knows about Adam being the one spearheading the campaign for the rules of the dance. You know it rubs him the wrong way, which makes you feel good because it certainly rubs you the wrong way. It’s shitty, it’s beyond shitty really. It’s fucked. 
But you can’t really bring yourself to care. It’s more of a mild annoyance these days. It’s not a simmering anger and it doesn’t feel like the abrasive sting of betrayal. At least you know you’re not the only one who thinks it’s shitty relationship practice. 
“Do you think you’re gonna go?” You ask, aiming for nonchalant. 
“To the dance?” He asks, like you’d ask about anything else between the start of this and now. You hum in response and he shrugs. “Probably not. You know I hate those things.”
“Cool.” You say as you turn your attention back to your math homework and try to ignore the way a piece of your heart just chipped away in your chest. 
Silence falls between the two of you once more, it’s only interrupted by the consistent scraping of your pencil point against your page. But it doesn’t feel like you’re done yet. It feels like there’s something hanging in the air, it’s just waiting for one of you to say it. 
Thankfully, he’s the one to talk first.
“Are you gonna go?” He asks, and you think he’s also aiming for nonchalant. He doesn’t quite get there as his gaze flicks up from his college ruled notebook page to meet your eye, but you think that’s your history playing against him. You know him better than that.
“Probably. My mom’s really excited about it.” That much is true. You told her about the dance a few weeks back and she was absolutely beaming. She had stashed away some of her wages to take you out to buy a dress for the dance. You told her you didn’t need anything fancy, it’s not like it’s prom.
But she wanted to, so you did. You ended up buying this cute blue dress. It’s a dress you never thought you’d ever wear. It’s something you never envisioned yourself being able to pull off. But it looked good, and it was your mom’s favorite out of the selections you had pulled. It was a done deal, and you know she’s going to be bursting at the seams with excitement on Friday night.
She’d even traded her usual night shift for a morning one so that she could be there to see you off before the dance. She’s acting like it’s prom or your wedding. It’s endearing.
You shrug it off a little, acting like it’s not that big a deal. Because it’s not, really. At least it shouldn’t be to him. It’s just a dance. A stupid dance with stupid rules and parameters. 
It’s fine that he’s not going. You never really expected him to say he was anyway. He said no. And that’s okay. That’s the worst thing that could’ve happened. And you’re going to be okay with that.
You decide as much as you look back up to find that his eyes are still on you. You sent a close lipped smile his way and hope it’s enough to put the conversation to bed. It takes a few seconds but he eventually says:
“Cool.” And it will be. It is. It is cool. Friday night is going to be cool. With you in the high school gym and him laid up in that loft bed. It will be cool. It’s going to be great. So you flash him a quick smile, showing your teeth for the briefest of seconds as you say:
“Cool.”
— — —
You watch, only slightly overwhelmed, as Fiona puts her beer down on the counter with a grin on her face.
“You guys really pulled out all the stops.” She says, stepping forward and pulling you into a hug that you fail to reciprocate. “Shit, kid, I haven’t seen you in ages.” 
“Yeah.” You say, not comfortable in the least. “It’s been a minute.” 
It’s the understatement of the century, but what else are you even supposed to say? Any other name for it would be less than kind, and you don’t want to mar the tone of what is meant to be a celebratory evening of a family coming back together again.
You tentatively bring your hands up to weakly press against her back at the last minute, just before she’s pulling away from the embrace. She fixes you with a kind smile and a knowing look as she takes a step back. She grabs a beer from the counter and holds it out in your direction.
“Well, I’m glad I’m seeing you now.” You smile timidly, heat rising to your cheeks as you take the bottle from her. Your gaze moves down to the bottle in hand, and you start picking at the label under the scrutiny of every set of eyes on you. 
But the attention seems to sweep away from you as Fiona picks her drink back up and walks over to the table, and takes her seat at the head of it once more. She steers the conversation back to whatever they’d been talking about before you arrived. You’ve never been more grateful to not be the center of attention. You try your best to blend into the scenery as you hop up onto the countertop between the stove and the sink and nurse the drink in your hand.
Most of them have moved on. Ian sent a quick glance your way before he went and settled himself down beside his husband on the last two steps leading into the kitchen. 
Debbie, Kev, V, Liam, Lip, the blonde woman, a toddler and a kid are all around the table. Carl is seated on one of the stools at the countertop, and they all seem to have fallen back into the normalcy of each other. This is the part you love. The part where you just get to watch them.
It’s a bit of a mind fuck if you’re being honest. Looking at Carl is throwing you for a loop because the last time you saw that kid he was in middle school, and he was waist high. That can’t be said anymore. He grew up, which of course he did. Time passes whether you like it or not. It’s just strange to have to reckon with an evolution you never expected to meet.
Debbie is even worse. Hell, the girl has a kid. And, from what Ian told you, she’s a lesbian now. You remember when she was obsessed with running daycare and playing with babydolls. So plenty of things have changed over the years, but in some ways you guess they really haven’t.
You listen as best you can to the story Fiona is telling. She moved down South somewhere a few years back. Something about proximity to the equator and wanting an indefinite break from Chicago’s penchant for brutal snow. Apparently she’s made a good living for herself. Apparently going far off to escape the connotations of the Gallagher name can really give someone a leg up.
You try your hardest to actually listen in, but you just can’t seem to fully focus in on it. Not when a certain pair of eyes keep flickering towards you every few seconds. 
You keep your eyes trained on the bottle in your hand until everything is interrupted by a knock at the front door. The food has arrived and, suddenly, the room is aflutter with activity as everyone starts to set up for dinner. 
But all you can do is watch as Lip heads straight over to Ian. He tries to make it seem nonchalant but it might be the least casual he’s ever been. 
He says something, you can’t quite make out what, and tilts his head towards the steps as he very clearly tries not to look at you. Ian nods, and his hand falls to Mickey’s shoulder out of habit as he passes up the stairs behind him. A pit settles in your stomach as you watch them go. 
— — —
The gym still looks like a gym. No matter how they dress it up. No amount of balloon arches or streamers or a disco ball can do anything to make it shimmering and beautiful. It’s still the gym that you have to run laps around every day in a pair of ugly shorts and beat up sneakers. 
But you can at least appreciate the effort. 
The night is interesting. You’ve seen several couples who said to hell with the flimsy rule decided upon by the committee. As they should. You, however, are not able to say the same. Adam had walked into the place with, as you had guessed, the head cheerleader on his arm. The head cheerleader who happens to be his ex girlfriend. So, that’s lovely. 
It was lovely to be off in the corner at the punch bowl and watch as the two of them walked into the room like they owned the place. She looked gorgeous because of course she did. They were all over each other, too. It’s almost like he forgot he still has a girlfriend. Not for much longer, but the technicality still matters.
Thankfully the night isn’t a complete shit show. The food is actually decent and you actually spend your fair share of time on the dance floor because the other kids on the debate team would be remiss if they let you sit it out. 
And, despite your expectations for the evening, you actually end up having fun. You have a good time and your feet are sore an hour in. That’s when you start trying to find an open plank on the bleachers to take a bit of a rest break. 
There are a few people scattered around the bleachers on either side of the gym. You just don’t expect to find a very familiar face among the crowd. 
You tamp down a grin as you start to make your way over to the bleachers. You climb up four steps and then walk all the way down the row to where he’s sitting. He’s actually dressed up for it. There’s no tie, and it’s not a tuxedo. But it’s a blazer and a button down with a nice pair of slacks. It’s the most cleaned up you’ve ever seen him. It’s cute.
“I thought you hated dances.” You say as you stop just to the left of him. You don’t have to wait for him to look at you, his eyes have been tracking your every move since you caught sight of him down on the floor. You smirk as you take a seat beside him and unfasten the little buckles on the ankle straps of your heels. 
“Fiona made me come. Something about enjoying my childhood.” He rolls his eyes with it, and you have to admit that it doesn’t entirely sound like Fiona. When it comes to Lip she’s never spent much time wanting him to worry about enjoying the parts of his life that he can only indulge in for a limited time.
In some ways you think she’s just been waiting for him to be a grown up so the load can be lightened slightly from her shoulders. You have a mass amount of respect for her, you’re not sure you could do what she does. You just wish that her relationship with Lip could be a little less contentious.
You know she loves him and that he loves her. You also know that they both got the short end of the stick by being the two eldest siblings. They take on the brunt of the responsibility and they are the ones that have to do all of the problem solving and the damage control. It’s not an easy position to be in. And they certainly don’t take it easy on each other.
“How awful.” You say with a hint of sarcasm and humor as you rest your head against his shoulder and watch the crowd of dancing teens just a few feet below. You feel him tense, but only momentarily.
You want to do something stupid like tell him you’re happy he came. That this whole farce of a night has become infinitely better at just the sight of him. But you refrain. You figure it’s better for your pride if you keep the dumb decisions to a minimum. 
You sit there like that for longer than you even know. A few songs cycle through and a few absolute jams come and go. You watch as everyone seems to be having the time of their lives, but you’re absolutely content to stay put for as long as is humanly possible. 
“Sorry about your boyfriend.” You blink back into reality and lift your head up slightly to meet his eye. He catches your eye before moving his gaze to the left and you follow it to find Adam and his date off making out in the far and darkened corner of the gym. 
You can even see as his hands trail down her body, past her waist, and you watch as his fingers start to creep below the hem of her dress. You don’t feel anything. You’re not numb or betrayed or shattered. You’re nothing. You’re sitting here watching your boyfriend cheat on you in real time, but you don’t care. You don’t care because you’re sitting here with him and, for the first time in a long time, the world feels right. 
“It’s not that big a loss.” You say, but your eyes linger on the two of them for a few seconds longer before you bring your gaze back to Lip. He was already looking at you. 
He doesn’t grow sheepish like you might’ve feared. He just keeps staring and you’re almost certain that his gaze drop to your lips for the briefest of seconds before making the trip back to your eyes. 
It’d be so easy to kiss him. It’d be so easy to lean the least bit forward and press your lips to him. God knows you’ve been dying to do it again since that day on his porch. It’s been a long time coming. But you’re a little too scared to make the first move. 
So as the song changes and the hyper-pop dance number draws to a close in favor of a slower tempo, you redirect. You quickly redo the clasps on your heels and then you stand. You extend your hand in his direction, wiggling your fingers a bit as he watches you like you’ve grown another head.
“Come on. You came all this way, you might as well dance at least once,” You’re sure it’s not that enticing an offer. You’re fairly convinced he’ll say no. You’re just really hoping he won’t. 
It feels like you’re standing there forever. You feel like gravity is just itching to push your hand back down to your side with each passing second, but you’re not ready to drop your hand just yet. You’re still hoping that he’ll take your hand and let you have this dance. 
Thankfully your hope isn’t misplaced because he finally takes hold of your hand and you grin like a kid on Christmas morning as you pull him back towards the stairs. The dance floor itself seems like it parts like the red sea as you pull him along. You end up smack dab in the middle of the court.
It’s a slower song, one about love and romance and all of the jazz. All of the things that you shouldn’t be dancing to with your friend. But you think that maybe the two of you aren’t friends. At least not really. At least not just friends.
At first your arms are twined around his neck and his hands have settled on your hips. It feels a little too intimate, but neither of you are bothering to shy away. You stay like that up until the end of the first chorus, neither of you daring to say a word. 
But now you find yourself easing into the whole thing. Into the song, into the dance, into his hold. Everything just feels like a habit, like a reflex, like second nature. It feels safe and right and just. So you take a chance and move a little closer. It’s nothing really, just a few measly steps, but it feels like the greatest of risks. 
Your hands fall from around his neck and your right arm moves to be wrapped around his shoulders while the left skates down his arm until you can lace your fingers through his. Your head rests against his shoulder and you hear the slightest of gasps escape him. 
You stay like that, perfectly content to just rest in his hold, until the beginning of the bridge starts to float through the speakers. Then you find you just can’t take it anymore. There’s something you just have to know. There’s a move you just have to make. 
“Did Fiona really make you come?” You ask, and at first you worry that your voice may be too quiet to carry over the music. But you’re proven wrong about that fairly quickly.
“No.” He admits, and you bite down the smile that’s begging to pull at the corner of your lips. 
“Then why?” You ask as you lift your head from his shoulder because you want to be able to look him in the eye right now. 
“Because you’re here.” He says. You don’t spot a trace of a lie in his features, and you can see that he’s nervous about it. He’s being honest, he’s being straightforward. It’s one of the things you’ve always appreciated about him. 
Maybe it’s high time for you to give honest and straightforward a shot. 
The bridge is coming to an end. It’s bleeding into the final chorus and you figure the clock is ticking down right along with it. Your window closes once the song ends and the moment dies. 
So you muster up whatever courage you have left in your system and you lean the least bit forward. Your gaze flicks from his lips to his eyes briefly, but he doesn’t dare to meet them. His eyes are focused a few centimeters south. It feels like a green light, it feels like this might actually work out the way you want it to.
You close the rest of the gap of distance between the two of you. It’s minute, the thinnest hairsbreadth, and it disappears instantly with the press of your lips to his. Your hand skates from his shoulder blade to the nape of his neck. 
Your fingers twist into the hair there for the briefest of moments before your palm finds purchase against his cheek. Your thumb brushes against the apple of it and you press the least bit closer as you feel him reciprocate your actions. 
He matches your movements and you feel like you could just die on the spot. You could melt into nothing with how good this feels. The built up anxiety that you’ve had around the idea of kissing him again has all but dissipated in your bones. 
It’s replaced by the all-encompassing bliss of relief. Like when you’re standing in the shower under the pour of the steamy water and you just never want to leave. It’s safe and comforting. It’s a feeling you never want to be without.
But then the song ends and the kiss goes with it. You pull back after the last few notes have faded. Your eyes open on a delayed reaction and you almost wish you’d kept them closed. The sight of Lip’s face is less than comforting. 
He looks spooked, like a deer caught in headlights. You could startle him without any intent or any real move being made. It’s enough to spook you in turn. 
“Lip?” You say, as you pull your hands from his form and take the slightest of steps back to put some distance between you. It doesn’t seem to help, if anything it seems to almost make it worse. He seems beyond freaked and he can’t stop staring. 
At least not until a different song comes blaring through the speakers and the uptempo dance hit catapults the crowd back to life. 
It’s like it snaps him back to reality and you watch with wide eyes as he takes a step back. He squeezes his eyes shut as if to reset his entire being, but, when he reopens them, he doesn’t seem happy with the result. 
“Lip?” You try again, but he doesn’t seem to want to hear it. He doesn’t want to even entertain it. He shakes his head with a fury you can’t say you’ve ever seen from him. 
And then he’s gone. He’s fleeing like you set fire to everything that has ever mattered. It’s like you’ve destroyed everything that has ever made sense. 
It feels like regret. It feels like a sorrow truer and deeper than anything you’ve ever felt. Anything you’ve ever subjected yourself to. It hurts worse because it’s all self-inflicted. It’s a demise of your own doing. It’s an armageddon of your own making. And you’re sure that sounds dramatic. You’re convinced of it. 
Because right now, standing as the lone person in the middle of a crowded dance floor that is bursting to the seams with joy, you can’t help but feel like you’ve swandived, no, you’ve gracelessly fallen head first into the end of times.  
— — —
It’s almost like time doesn’t exist in the Gallagher house. Because somehow half the night has passed by right under your nose. The food has been devoured, and most of you are already several beers deep. The stereo is turned up as high as it can go, and the boys have long since returned from their excursion upstairs. 
The kids were put to bed upstairs hours ago, and you’ve spent the last bit of your time chilling on the couch as they all dance. You have to force down your laughter at the sight of some of it. You choose to ignore the warmth that spreads over your heart. You blame it on the booze. But it’s not that same kind of warmth. 
It’s the warmth that’s brought on by immense joy. The kind of joy that feels like it’s almost about to break free from your body entirely, and it’s fighting tooth and nail to push itself from your chest and out into the world. It’s a feeling you haven’t had since you were a kid. Since the last time you were in this house surrounded by these people.
It has tears stinging lightly at your eyes, and you definitely blame that on the booze. You got over this shit years ago, at least you told yourself you did. Your life had become so far removed from Chicago and the kid you used to be that it felt silly to bother missing it. The past is one of those things that is truly confounding. Missing it is useless because it is something you can never recapture. It’ll never be the way it was, even if you step back into it. Just like tonight.
It’s nice. It’s familiar. But it’s not the same. You’re settled on the couch, and zoning out and that was never you. Not all those years ago. Those were better days. 
Life was so much easier back then. You used to walk into this house like you lived in it. You were here far more than you were at your own house. And you had the one thing that you’d never really been able to replace.
You’ve never been the best at making friends. You weren’t the most social child, and people kind of scared you. Talking to other kids wasn’t for the faint of heart, and strangers were a point of stress for you. 
As you got older a lot of people didn’t really bother with being your friend because you were joined at the hip with your best friend. Which also meant that most of your adolescence you missed out on those typical firsts. 
You can count the number of times you were asked out on one hand. People didn’t want to mess around with you because they thought you were already involved. You weren’t. You’d told people that time and time again, but they never seemed to believe you. But that’s just the way of middle school and junior high. You’d just come out of the phase of boys being gross, and suddenly everyone thought you and your best friend were destined to date. 
You tried not to let all of it go to your head. But it can be hard when everyone is whispering the same thing in your ear. When you’re that young it’s a little hard not to be so susceptible to suggestion. 
Of course you hadn’t breathed a word of it to Lip. Because you knew it wasn’t like that. There wasn’t anything remotely romantic about your strictly platonic relationship. It would’ve been a strange transition from friends to something more, you can admit that much. And, besides, the two of you were both such messes, even back then, that it just wouldn’t have worked. It would’ve been a disaster. It would’ve ended in flames either way, it would’ve burned to the ground just like it did back then.
Friendships are tricky. They can be such great sources of pain. You’ve found that the collapse of a friendship makes trust harder than the dissolution of any relationship you’ve ever been in. 
You don’t let yourself get too close anymore. You keep some things too close to the chest, and you don’t tell people anything you wouldn’t be okay with the entire world knowing. 
It’s hard to recalibrate your life when you lose sight of the one thing you figured would be able to go the distance. Forever is a fickle concept, that much you’re aware of, but you had never bothered to imagine a life that didn’t have Lip in it. 
You couldn’t remember a life before him, it was the way it had always been. It was the status quo. It had gone uninterrupted for so long that you thought you had made it out of the woods. 
You were wrong. 
You’d made it out by the skin of your teeth, but the journey didn’t end the way it started. You lost someone along the way, and it was forever caught in the wind with each step you took. You could hear it rustling through the branches of the trees and it had you checking over your shoulder at all of the little noises behind you. It’s still in the back of your mind even though you’ve put miles between you and the woods.
If things were the way they were supposed to be you wouldn’t be sitting alone on this couch with a pair of eyes burning a hole in the back of your head. If things were the way they used to be he’d be sitting right beside you, you’d probably be sharing a cigarette. You’d be talking about god knows what, it’d probably be nothing of consequence. It would just be easy. It always was.
It was the only time in your life where you didn’t need to strive to be understood, you just were. He understood you. And it didn’t seem like an effort. It just felt like he fit. Like you fit. It was like puzzle pieces until eventually you just said to hell with it and threw the pieces back in the box. You’re so far away from each other now, everything is a mess, and there’s nothing you can do to put it back together.
It’s safe to say your buzz has dulled significantly by the time Ian plops down on the couch next to you. He just finished dancing with Mickey, which had been a much longer endeavor than Mickey probably would’ve preferred. He’s fairly sweaty, and his eyes are focused behind you on Mickey’s retreating figure as he goes to grab another beer. He’s definitely a little far over the line of sobriety himself, but it’s a celebratory evening so he went a little beyond his limit. Even though he’ll probably be paying for it in the morning.
“You were on fire out there.” You say, teasing smirk perfectly in place as you look at him. “You’ve been holding out on me, superstar.” 
“Hey, that’s not true.” He says, with a shake of his head and a barely there smirk. “I told you I was a dancer in another life.”
You shake your head with a laugh as you look at him, before you pull your attention back to the dwindling party around you. Everyone seems to have gravitated towards open chairs, the kitchen, or the floor. 
Clearly the drinks and the dancing are starting to take their toll, but you know it won’t last long. Gallagher parties always find their second wind, you know it’s only a matter of time before they’re all back on their feet. 
“So,” He says, tapping your leg gently with his foot as you grab your bottle of beer from the table, “Are you having fun yet?”
“Oh tons. Where else could I get entertainment like this for free?” You say, smirking as you lift the bottle to your lips. 
A night like this is great as long as it doesn’t come at the price of your own humiliation. Which usually happens at some point, at least it used to when you were a kid. At least, back then it was humiliating. 
Now those embarrassments just go into the repertoire of stupid childhood shit. They’re party stories. The kind of dumb tales you tell over drinks and games of truth or dare and never have I ever. Back when you used to play those games.
Maybe you’re overdue for a good dose of humiliation. But the good natured kind, if that even exists. It’s the kind of embarrassment where you have a soft place to land. The people in this room aren’t going to judge you, it’d be a bit hypocritical if they did since they’ve all been just as low as you have if not lower. 
Besides, nothing will ever be as embarrassing as your fall from grace in New York. Nothing will ever be able to bring you to the same type of rock bottom. A mild dose of humiliation in the Gallagher living room is tame in comparison. It’s old hat at this point. It’s tradition. So you’re certain it’s well on its way. 
You take another sip from your drink as the outro of whatever indie pop song is playing dies out over the stereo. And you’re content to sink into the cushions of the couch and let the night sweep itself under the rug as the energy slowly surges back into the party. But Ian seems to have other plans. Apparently, he’s aiming to be the energy.
“Alright,” He says, slightly tapping your knee before standing with a hand outstretched. “C‘mon.” 
“What?” You ask, fixing him with a glare like he’s just grown another head and protectively cradling the bottle closer to your chest. 
“Everyone has to dance at least once. House rules.”
“Since when?” You demand, just the least bit bothered by this latest amendment to the Gallagher rule book. 
“Since right now.” He says, pulling the bottle from your hand and putting it down on the table next to you. “Come on.” 
He grabs your hand and pulls you from the couch as the opening chords of an early 2000s pop song start to fill the room. It’s not the type of song you slow dance to, but he doesn’t seem to care. He spins you and then it’s like you’re at prom or something. It’s silly, and entirely unserious, but it’s a healthy dose of carelessness that you haven’t had in god only knows how long. 
Everyone else, even in their lazing states, starts to get a bit into the spirit. The lyrics are falling from their lips like it’s second nature and their beer bottles are held high in the air, swaying like lighters in the crowd of a concert.
It’s a comforting feeling, one that you practically sink into as you find your footing with the steps of this slow dance. It feels familiar, it feels like you’ve been here before. And you have, just in the arms of a different Gallagher brother. It’s almost a force of habit when your gaze slides to your former friend sitting on the stairs a few feet away.
And it suddenly feels like you’re back in high school. You’re just a kid at a Sadie Hawkins dance wrapped up in the embrace of your lackluster date as you watch the boy sitting on the bleachers. It feels like a million years ago, but somehow it’s come back around. It’s all encompassing. 
The music fades into the background as your body moves on autopilot to correspond to the way Ian leads the dance, but you can’t quite pull your attention away from Lip. And you think about all of it.
You think about screaming matches and words you’ll never be able to take back. You think about inside jokes and the familiarity of summer mornings spent in the Gallagher kitchen. You think about years that have since fallen by the wayside, time that you will never be able to get back. It feels like a mistake. 
In this moment, in the midst of this whirlwind night, all of that space is starting to feel like the biggest regret of your life. You’ve always thought you were more civil than to let relationships fall apart because of petty arguments. You could take more than your fair share of nasty words spewed in your direction. Lip had always been more than prone to rage, and you’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time and gotten caught in the aftershocks of those moods. Trapped in the tail end of arguments with Fiona or his general distaste for Frank and Monica. 
He could be downright vile in those moments. With words that you weren’t sure he regretted once he calmed down. Regret never seemed to be his style. Self-loathing? Oh, he had that in spades. You have the feeling that hasn’t changed over the years. 
Maybe there’s guilt here and there. But you’ve never really known him to be the kind of person to apologize. In the few times you’ve ever seen him do it, it has been like pulling teeth.
But maybe things have changed in these last few years. Maybe regret has found a way to harbor itself in his heart, because he’s not looking at you like everything is fine. He’s not looking at you in the same way he was when you first walked in. 
No, the shock has worn off. But he’s looking at you like he’s missing something. Or like something has finally slotted back into place. Like the return of that final puzzle piece. 
It makes your heart rest a little heavier in your chest. Your breath comes out a bit faster than it did before. You can’t seem to snap yourself out of it. It’s reworking the gears turning in your brain. It has a hold on you that you can’t quite explain. But it’s familiar. You know this feeling all too well. 
The song finally winds down to its close, even though your brain is still stuck on those few notes. Ian dips you for dramatic effect, and it seems to be the only thing to really snap you out of your trance. You send a slightly awkward smile in his direction and he helps you back up. You brush the hair from your face and lean down to grab your beer bottle from the table. 
“I’m gonna get some air.” You mumble as you pass Ian and head straight for the back door without a second look. 
— — —
One thing you realized about yourself fairly early on is that you have a low tolerance for bullshit. You don’t have time for lying or excuses or avoidance. So it surprises even you when you let Lip’s disappearing act slide for an entire month. 
And calling it a disappearing act is no dramatization. It’s the only way to describe it. The boy has practically dropped off the face of the planet. He’s giving Houdini a run for his money. You haven’t seen him since the dance, at least not in any way that matters.
You’ve caught peeks of him in the halls at school and in passing. But he keeps his gaze away and he is never in one place for too long. You haven’t even seen him in the cafeteria so you don’t know where he’s been eating. 
He even stopped walking you home. The first day after the dance you waited outside the school for an hour before you finally accepted the fact that he wasn’t coming. It took an entire sixty minutes to convince yourself that he’d probably already left. 
The fact that he just left you there had been hard to stomach. You’d spent the walk home trying to choke back the tears that were just begging to spill down your cheeks. You lost the battle by the time you were two blocks from your house. You’d nearly made it through only to fall short just before the finish line.
You had walked into the house that afternoon and it just so happened to be one of your mom’s rare days off. So you had an audience to your breakdown, you didn’t have enough of a chance to bypass and head straight for your room before anyone got to see you like that. Though it wasn’t for lack of trying. 
You’d tried to just get around her, but she wasn’t having it. She had questions, she had many. The first of which was whose ass she needed to kick. She had been surprised by your answer. 
Your mother always thought of Lip as a nice boy, she thought that the two of you would eventually get over yourself and see what’s right in front of you and get together.
Look how wrong she ended up being.
She assured you that it was probably a misunderstanding. You’re not sure what there is to misunderstand about kissing a boy and then having them run for the hills. Especially since every ounce of normalcy in that relationship has gone entirely to shit over the last three days. 
You’re fairly certain there is nothing to misread and that there are no misunderstandings to be had. You screwed up, it’s as simple as that. You thought he felt the same way and you thought he wanted the same things. You were wrong and now you’re going to have to deal with the repercussions of that. 
It’ll be different, but you’ll just have to come to terms with that. And you made peace with that. You dried your tears and you held your head high. You committed to what life, and the rest of high school, would look like without Lip Gallagher in it. 
Until you got sick of the cold shoulder and the silent treatment. You’d also grown slightly tired of your mother’s insistence that all of this could be fixed with a simple conversation. Even though you felt that you shouldn’t be playing ball if he clearly couldn’t stand to be in the same room as you.
But then you figured it might be worth a shot. You waited until May bled into June and the end of the school year had come sweeping through in predictable fashion. You figure if you’re going to blow it all to hell you might as well wait until you won’t have to see him for three months. 
After the last day of school, after the half day has come to its close, you don’t waste any time heading to the Gallagher house. You’re tired of waiting. You’re not going to let another minute go by without nipping this whole thing in the bud.
You didn’t see him around the halls that day, so you’re fairly convinced he skipped. It wouldn’t be the first time, the last day of school usually feels like the kind of day that is worth missing. You don’t even bother knocking, It’d feel even weirder to have to wait to be let in. 
When you get inside you catch sight of Ian and Fiona in the kitchen. Their conversation draws to a close at the sound of the front door closing behind you as you step into the living room and they just watch you. They seem happy to see you, but also surprised. You can’t really blame them. 
You don’t bother with words, you just meet Ian’s gaze and he tips his head in the direction of the staircase. You climb them with familiar ease, nearly taking them two at a time, until you come to a stop right by the boys room. 
You compose yourself a bit to try and calm the harsh breaths you’re accustomed to after speeding through the walk here. When you turn the corner and pass through the doorway you spot him immediately. He’s up on the bunk and he’s tossing a ball up against the ceiling. 
You make yourself a little more known as you round the corner of the bed frame and stand just before Ian’s bed. His gaze travels to you, but he makes no move. He doesn’t react. He just looks at you, he almost seems bored.
“What are you doing here?” He asks, and the only thing about it that doesn’t drive you mad is the fact that he’s stopped tossing the ball. The only thing that makes you feel even the least bit normal about all of this is that you have his sole and undivided attention. 
You’re well beyond being in the mood for him and his attempts at feigning indifference. 
“You’ve been avoiding me.” You say, and he doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even bother to think of a lie or some quick witted remark. He doesn’t do anything, he just watches you like you didn’t say anything at all. It’s infuriating. 
What’s even more infuriating is the fact that he goes back to bouncing the ball just a few seconds later. With each knock of it against the ceiling you can practically feel your brain melting inside your skull. 
“Would you quit it?” You ask as you climb up onto one of the rungs of the ladder and pry the ball from his hands. He barely fights you on it, he just rolls his eyes as you pull it into your grasp. You climb back down and put the ball over on the desk. 
You take a moment once you place the ball down, but when you turn there is absolutely no doubt that you mean business. Exasperation is etched into every inch of your face and your arms are crossed over your chest as you say:
“Are you ready to talk to me now?”
He has the gall to seem annoyed. He pushes himself up from the mattress with a roll of his eyes. He swings his legs over the side and doesn’t even bother with the ladder before he’s jumping down to your level.
You’re convinced that he does it for the sole purpose of being able to spare a fleeting glance in your direction as he walks right past you to grab the pack of cigarettes from the window sill. You glare daggers into his back as he opens the window. But a righteous fury ignites in your chest when you hear him say:
“About?”
You watch with a scornful eye as he lights the cigarette and tags a drag. He hesitates only a few seconds before he tilts his head in the direction of the window and you watch as the smoke leaves the room. 
“About why you’ve been avoiding me.” He doesn’t bother with a response. He doesn’t even bother with a glance. He just watches the smoke as it goes, you kind of hate him for it. 
But you figure that maybe this whole thing has been difficult to process and maybe you need to grant him some grace and some time. Maybe leading with your frustration isn’t the right way to go. You let out a sigh as you sink down onto Ian’s bed, and you try to keep your eyes off him. Maybe that’ll make this somewhat easier.
“We kissed,” You swear you see him flinch out of the corner of your eye, “And maybe we shouldn’t have done that. And it made things weird because we’re friends-” 
You hear a scoff. A scoff! It makes your blood boil. 
“What’s that for?” You ask, and you hope he chooses his next words carefully. 
“We’re not friends.” He says, and you feel a bit foolish that you get your hopes up for a split second about the implications of the statement. 
Maybe he means that you’re not just friends. Maybe you’re more than that. Because you know, you think you’re more than that. You think whatever this is between the two of you goes beyond the confines of friendship. 
But you know him well enough to know that’s probably not the case. It probably holds a far more negative connotation. And you just can’t stand for that.
“Excuse me?” It’s almost like you’re daring him to answer. It’s like you’re just pushing for him to elaborate so that he can hopefully have the good sense to walk himself out of this trap. But you’re not sure that boy has ever had a lick of sense to begin with. Not when it comes to this.
“We’re not friends.” He repeats, “We have never been friends. We met when we were five and you’ve been following me around like a lost puppy ever since.” 
Maybe it’s the nonchalance, the borderline indifference, that makes the statement hurt more. Maybe that’s why it feels like he just drove a dagger through your heart. It stings, you’ll give it that. But there’s also some part of you, the bigger part of you, that calls bullshit.
“You’re kidding.” You say, but it isn’t a question. You’re not genuinely asking because it is truly the only explanation. 
You stand from the bed and you fix with a look that feels nearly unspeakable. Everything about this feels unspeakable. And you wonder if maybe you should’ve left well enough alone. But this isn’t well enough, and you know enough to know that.
“If that’s what you have to tell yourself to ignore what’s happening here, then that’s fine. But we are friends. You are my best friend. And you have been for as long as I can remember. And that was fine, it was good. I was fine with it being like that for the rest of our lives.” 
And you really would’ve been. You would’ve been happy to just see that friendship going the distance and having the incredible luck of Lip sticking around for as long as humanly possible.
“But then we kissed, and I’m not talking about the dance.” 
You catch his eye and you feel like you might’ve unlocked something. You might’ve pushed a memory to the surface that he’s been trying to bury. Something he’s been trying to forget about. But you think he really hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it. Just like you haven’t.
“You kissed me on the porch and something changed. Things have been different and I didn’t know how to handle them. I didn’t know how to admit to myself that things had shifted and you weren’t just my best friend anymore. So I tried to act like nothing was different, like I was the same. Until I couldn’t.”
You really had done your best to keep things the way they were. You tried to act like everything was normal, like everything was fine. It wasn’t as difficult as you thought, Adam had served as a good enough distraction for a while there. But it still wasn’t enough, you’re not sure anything ever will be.
“Until we were in the middle of that dance floor and you were looking at me like that. And we kissed. I thought you felt the way I felt, and I might be wrong about that. And you know what? You might be right. Maybe we’re not friends. Maybe we’re more.”
He’s not enough of a coward to avoid your eye, but you can tell that he wants to when a muscle jumps in his jaw. This is the last thing he wants to be doing.
“I think you’re scared. I think you know that things have changed and I think you feel something. I think you’re just worried that you’ll screw it up or you’ll lose something that you’re not ready to let go of. I think you’re scared and this, this little act, is easier than admitting that.” 
You watch as the cigarette starts to burn down in his hand, and you can tell that you’ve caught his attention. Even if he’s trying to fight it.
“But it’s not easier for me. None of this is easy for me. And you can pretend all you want and you can act like I don’t matter to you. But it’s not gonna work forever, so when you’re ready to have an actual conversation, you know where to find me.”
You don’t hesitate in taking your leave. You’re turning on your heel in the immediate aftermath and bounding down the stairs. North Wallace has never seemed as appealing as it does in your endeavors to get to the front door. And if you wipe a stray tear on the way down the stairs, well, that’s nobody’s business but yours. 
— — —
You hear the door open behind you and you don’t even have to look to know who it is. You fiddle with the peeling label on your bottle as his footsteps plod down the steps towards you.
“It wasn’t my idea to come here tonight.” You say, feeling the need to defend yourself before he’s even started. You know him well enough to know that some of the blame will probably still fall on you. 
“I know.” He says, taking a seat next to you but leaving a respectable amount of space between you. Well, as respectable an amount of space as the staircase can provide. “He likes to fix things.”
“What’s he trying to fix?” You ask, tilting your head the least bit so you can get a better view of him in your periphery. 
“Me.” He says. It’s said with such certainty that it hangs in the air between the two of you. It gets you to turn your head. And when your eyes meet for one sad, sorry moment, it almost feels like too much. 
“And here I thought he had a bone to pick with my social life.” You say, turning your head in the opposite direction and taking another drink from your bottle. You hear him huff out the smallest of laughs. It’s an awkward one, but it’s better than nothing.
It dies out fairly quickly and the two of you settle into the familiarity of car alarms in the distance, the smell of cigarette smoke, and the sound of the party raging on through the cracked open kitchen windows.
You’re used to this. The waiting. Because he’ll never be the first to admit when he’s made a mistake. And you feel like it’s not on you to fix this. You’re not the one that broke it, so you’re not the one who should be returning to the scene with tape and glue to mend the damage. 
And, if you’re being honest with yourself, you’ve imagined this moment more times than you can count. You’ve played it over a million different ways. Sometimes you’re angry, sometimes you’re sad, sometimes you’ve entirely out of left field. But this doesn’t feel anything like any of those dreams. 
Some petty part of you is just waiting to hear how close he gets to the apologies you’ve drafted for him in your head over the years. But he’s never been one to have a way with words, so you won’t be surprised if he misses the mark entirely. 
“I, uh,” He starts, and you turn your head to your left just a smidge. You catch sight of his face out of your peripheral and your eyebrows raise the slightest bit as he seems to rechart his course of action. “I tried calling you a few years back, but the number was out of service.” 
Changing your number had felt like a bit of a low blow even if you never expected it to ring with a familiar contact flashing on the screen. It was a step beyond out of sight, out of mind. It was no contact, and, even though you’d been doing that for years by that point, it still felt like plunging a knife in his back. 
So you told yourself that it wouldn’t matter anyway. If he’d wanted to talk to you he would’ve done it when he had the chance. And he’s had plenty of chances. Plenty of opportunities where you would’ve answered. Times when you would’ve come running if he’d just asked. 
But college was meant to be a clean break, it was meant to be a time where you got away from all the skeletons that had been living in your closet rent free. So you changed your number and you deleted your old social media accounts. 
You didn’t keep in touch with any of the other Gallaghers. Well, except for a few odd, and concerning, texts from Ian that made a lot more sense now. 
It’s so typical that right after you’ve given up he decides it’s time to try again. He decides to reach out when the clock has finally run down, and then it becomes another tally in the ‘fucked for life’ column. 
“I almost wrote, too. But your mom wouldn’t give me the address.” He still sounds a little bit bitter about it, and it makes you laugh. 
You can’t help it. Your mom has always been one of Lip Gallagher’s biggest fans. She was always making comments about how cute the two of you were with each other. You’re fairly certain she had bets placed for when the two of you would get together. 
Until that day you came home crying, and then it was all over. She canceled her membership and stopped paying her dues. He’d fucked you over, and that fell far too short of forgivable in her eyes. 
She probably knew that one lousy letter wouldn’t do any good. It wouldn’t be an apology, he wouldn’t have been ready for one then. You’re not sure he’s really ready for it now. 
But at least now maybe it’ll be a little less about him. Because that letter, and that phone call, would’ve been about how his life was going to shit. It would’ve been about what you could do for him. It would’ve been the rekindling of a friendship on a one way street. 
There’s nothing worthwhile about that. 
“It’s probably for the best. I wasn’t in the right place to be talking to you.” He says, staring down the chain link fence in front of you. “It wouldn’t have been fair.”
It probably makes you sound like an asshole to say that you’re impressed he’s been able to achieve that level of self reflection. The kid you knew would’ve never admitted that he was treating you poorly. That he would’ve been taking advantage of the level of care you harbor for him. 
“I would’ve blown it. I knew it back then, and I know it now.” He says, and it’s kind of like you’re not even there. Like you’re just an audience to whatever epiphany he’s been waiting to voice for God only knows how long. “I did blow it.”
You don’t have it in you to swallow back the snide comment crawling its way up your throat. You hide your ired smirk behind the lip of your beer bottle for a second, but it isn’t enough to make you think better of what you’re about to say. If anything, it’s an encouragement to let it rip.
“You Gallaghers might be the greatest self-fulfilling prophecy in history. Honestly, it should be studied.” 
There’s nothing kind about your tone of voice, but at the very least you know you have his undivided attention. 
“You’re so convinced you’re fucked for life, that you make every mistake in the book and think it’s just proof that the universe hates you. It’d be funny if it weren’t so pathetic.”
The Gallaghers are a clan that hate being pitied, but have no lack of pity reserved for themselves. They often don’t admit they’re the ones in the wrong. It’s gotten more than a little old. Maybe it was ten years of distance and time that really sold you on it, but you can’t believe they’ve survived this way for so long.
“You didn’t have to blow it.” You mutter, almost bitterly, as you take another drink. “You could’ve been better. You didn’t have to say what you said. But you did. And there’s no taking it back. Any of it.”
“I know.” He says, and you wonder if he was going to try and do just that. You’re certain he thought an apology was going to fix everything. Which, honestly, hearing the word sorry from him might actually send you into cardiac arrest. 
You wish that an apology could be enough. Honestly, you’re fairly certain that after about thirteen years people probably expect that you would’ve been able to bury the hatchet by now. But you can’t seem to, even though you’ve tried. 
Things that were a part of your life for as long as he was are hard to shake. They’re the kind of things that you don’t recognize yourself without. You’re nowhere near the same once they’re gone. It takes time to readjust, it takes effort to try and relearn your pages. 
There’s always one person who seems to rewrite your entire story. Every little thing about you is altered by the presence of them, and there’s no way to get back to the way you were before it. You may not even remember what that other version of you was like, but you know that they’re too far gone for you to ever get in touch with them again.
He changed everything about you, to what feels like an almost atomic level. There is no part of who you are that is not forever altered by knowing Lip Gallagher. The parts of you that are him are just too intrinsic. There’s no separation, there’s no way to cut the ties. Time and distance are bullshit. You’re never really far enough away for any of that to matter.
You hate laying that level of importance on anyone. You hate believing that there is anyone on this earth that has ever truly held that level of power and influence over you. But you can’t deny how true it is. No matter how hard you’ve tried. 
So being back here, sitting beside him, feels infinitesimally close to regression. But, in what is probably more wounding than that, it feels like coming home. 
It feels like life cut you both in separate directions to learn how to grow apart before you could really grow together. Because things have to have reasons. Even if they suck, even if those reasons are bullshit, there has to be a reason for things happening the way that they do. 
Or maybe you just need things to have a reason. Maybe sense is something you need to fight tooth and nail to find, otherwise life may not be navigable. Maybe sense is just a nice pillow to lay your head on at the end of a long day, maybe it’s only good for helping you sleep at night.
Maybe sense has driven you down the wrong path all these years. Maybe you need to make your choices now and ask your questions later. Maybe life is easier to figure out in reflection and hindsight. Maybe that’s why you’re still sitting here. 
“What would you change?”
“What?”
“If you could take it back. If you could say something different. If you could go back and fix it, what would you change?” You keep your gaze on the straight and narrow, refusing to spare a glance his way even in your periphery. 
A part of you wonders if he’s ever actually thought about it. If he’s even spent any time thinking about how he could’ve made it right if he had the chance. You’re not sure he really thinks of regret in that way. 
He probably just looks back on it with that level of disappointment that everyone carries for the mistakes they’ve made. But you’re not sure he’s ever wasted his time or his breath on the idea of making things right. At least until right now.
A part of you is proud that you’ve thrown Lip Gallagher for a loop. He’s very rarely dumbfounded. It’s rare that he’s caught unaware without a sarcastic answer at the ready. It lets something sickly, something ugly, settle over your heart at the fact that he’s at a loss for words.
But it doesn’t all feel good. Part of it feels like you’ve been proven right. He doesn’t have a clue what he’d say. He doesn’t know what he would do to fix what he broke. And it sucks. 
It sucks to know that you’ve spent more time thinking about the two of you, and your subsequent downfall, than he ever has. It’s the affirmation of the things that little voice in your head has been telling you since the summer before freshman year. And that’s fucking brutal.
The silence is starting to eat at you, and you don’t really know what to do with it. It only seems to further validate everything you’ve been telling yourself for years. You don’t need to sit here and put yourself through that.
“Typical.” You mutter under your breath, chuckling without a trace of humor as you stand from your stoop and head back up the steps towards the door. 
“I would tell you that I love you.” That has you nearly tripping over the next step, instead your weight falls on the step beneath you and it creaks with the force of it.
Whatever you were expecting it wasn’t that. That was a big word for him back then, so you’re sure it’s not something he throws around freely these days. If anyone had asked you probably would’ve said you believed he thought love was bullshit. It’s not like he had the best examples to pull from and bolster his view of love. So, you’re not sure if he knew it to be love then or if he’s figured that out as he’s grown and sorted what love is and what it isn’t. 
“I didn’t know it then. I couldn’t explain the way I felt, I’m not sure I even knew what it was. I know better now.” He says, and your head turns over your shoulder to find him staring at the chain link fence just like you had been a few minutes prior. 
“I just knew that it scared the shit out of me. At the dance with you so close, and the kiss. I could see it. I could see a future there, and it wasn’t a bad thing. It would’ve been good. I would’ve been happy. We could’ve been happy.”
You’re not sure why the idea of that sounds like torture to him. Why is the idea of a good life something that seems so heart wrenching to him? Is being happy so unfortunate a fate that he runs at the mere idea of it? 
“I didn’t know how to be happy back then. I didn’t know how to love someone or treat them right. It’s not like I had an example of a healthy relationship.” He laughs a little, but it lacks humor. “I wasn’t going to put you through all of that. You deserved better than that. You’ve always been better than this.” 
That’s the part of this that makes your head spin. He always believed that you were somehow better than him. Even though you’re both from the same place and grew up in similar ways, he still thought that you were better than him. That you had a better chance at a good life. 
He always felt like he needed to protect that. Even if it meant putting distance between the two of you, even if it meant he continued to believe that he’s not good for you. 
“You wouldn’t have left. You would’ve stayed local, and gone to community college. Probably wouldn’t have finished though, probably would’ve dropped out. We probably would’ve gotten hitched. Would’ve had a few kids by now. And I would’ve been happy. I would’ve been so happy.”
He taps his fingers against the edge of the wooden step. 
“But you would’ve been surface level happy. Performatively happy. Because there always would’ve been some part of you that wondered what would’ve happened if you left Chicago. If you left me. And you would never really be able to be happy because some small part of you would resent me.” 
He goes quiet for a second, and you almost contemplate taking a few steps down and going back over to him. But you don’t. You fear maybe he’ll be less honest if you do. 
“And I would’ve been okay with that. I would’ve been okay with your half lived life if it meant I got to be with you. I would’ve been okay with that future. But you deserve better. You deserve more. And I didn’t want to get in the way of that.” 
So maybe the future could’ve been a lot different. Maybe he’s right, maybe it could’ve been worse. But maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad. Maybe it could’ve been better. You’re not sure if you would trade the life you have for the possibility of what could’ve happened. 
But you have the feeling the future you’re being set up for is going to be better than whatever you could’ve dreamt up in your youth.
“And I know that wasn’t my choice to make. And I’ve been regretting it ever since. But I just wanted you to have a good life even if I wasn’t in it. And you did, you left and you went to New York and you got your degree. You did all the things you always talked about. And I lived for what I could overhear of your dad talking to Kev at the Alibi every Thursday night.” 
You turn on the step, slow and quiet enough for it to not be heard. Maybe you aren’t the only one who missed this.
“And then Ian told me you were back. He came down here after his first day back practically buzzing out of his skin. I almost thought he was manic. Turns out he was just excited because you were back in Chicago. He saw you and you were just like he remembered. And he wondered if I knew.” 
He scoffs the least bit pathetically, as if it isn’t the least bit surprising that he wasn’t kept in the loop. 
“And I didn’t want to reach out. I figured you’d never want to see me again, let alone hear me out. But Ian was insistent. He said that I’d never know until I actually tried. And I was a coward. And then he opened his big mouth and here you are. And I know I have no right to expect anything from you. I know it isn’t fair for me to try to be a part of your life again. But if you give me a chance, if you let me fix what I broke, I promise I won’t take it for granted. Just-”
His words fall short, his breath catching in his throat as he tilts his head up towards the sky above him. He probably figures you’ve left. That he’s just been talking to the air, maybe he thinks he’s wasting his breath. But he’s wrong.
You make your way back down the steps, the soles of your shoes hit the wooden planks as lightly as possible so you don’t make a sound. Until you come to a stop, your feet resting just beside his thigh. 
It takes a few seconds for him to actually acknowledge your presence; for him to look up. But when he does he finds you staring back at him with your hand outstretched. His gaze falls to your hand momentarily before flicking back up to your eyes.
“Come on.” You say, wiggling your fingers the least bit in invitation. Your heart skips a beat as he fights off a smile. “Everyone has to dance at least once.”
He watches you for a few more seconds, and your smile never wavers. Not even once. It feels like a million years ago. 
It feels like approaching the bleachers and sitting down next to the boy who’s been on the sidelines all night. It feels like asking your best friend to dance, only this time your heart feels a little more settled in your chest. 
This time it doesn’t feel so make or break when he grabs hold of your hand and follows you up the stairs. Your smile feels less faulty than it did under the dim lights of the gym. And, for the first time, the past truly feels like it’s behind you as the kitchen door clicks closed.
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in1-nutshell · 4 months
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How would the tfp react to the sparkling beans
I have another work that has the TFP Cons reaction to the sparklings you can visit. Now its time for these beans to meet up with the Autobots.
Hope you enjoy!
Autobots reacting to finding a pod full of sparklings
SFW, familial, platonic, Cybertronian/ Bot reader
TFP
For the sake of this writing, the pod crash landed outside their base after a meteor shower. Optimus and Ultra Magnus go out to retrieve the pod. Bulkhead has his wrecking ball out just in case it was another scraplet trap. No one is expecting this pod to be filled with sparklings.
Optimus Prime
Confused sparkling noises
“My children.”--Optimus
“Optimus they all can’t—”--Ratchet
“My. Children.”--Optimus
Oh, he is not expecting this. But this is a pleasant surprise. He is in love with all these little beans. He helps them out of the pod with the help of the other to make sure they are okay in the med bay. Optimus is hypervigilant of each sparkling while Ratchet is checking up on them.
Due to the amount of sparklings, and his lack of more servos, he came up with a new guardian system for the team to use for the beans.
No one is going to say no to this idea.
Prime has a habit whenever he is in the base to pick up a sparkling or two and keep them around while he does work. That doesn’t mean that work is the only thing he does around the sparklings. He finds himself telling them stories he remembers from his days as Orion Pax in the halls of Iacon.
Has given the beans a ride in his alt-mode from time to time.
Ratchet
Giggling sparkling noises.
Mother hen mode activated.
Oh, his stress levels have skyrocketed.
Not only does he have to worry about his team doing dumb things and getting hurt, now he has to worry about a bunch of literal sparklings. He needs a break, but not now, he has sparklings now.
He checks up on every single sparkling making note that they were all right and healthy. Since he spends the most time at the base, he naturally spends more time with the sparklings.
He is thankful for anyone who stays with him at the base to help with the sparklings. His back kibble sub space is usually filled with the beans. It’s easier to make sure to know where they are. Ratchet endless patience with the sparklings.
Has taken some of the sparklings around on ambulance rides when he picks up Raf when Bumblebee can’t .
Bumblebee
Beeping sparkling noises
Mimicking same beeping noises
He isn’t the youngest anymore!
He is enamored with the sparklings. He is often found cooing at them and picking them up.
Protective of his little friends. Bumblebee is the first to introduce the sparklings to the kids when they come back. Which was a story all on its own.
He takes his job as guardian seriously with the sparklings, especially if Raf is around too. It makes him one of the best babysitters on the team.
Has taken some around on rides on his alt-mode, does speed up from time to time but usually sticks to the speed limit and smooth driving.
Arcee
Sparkling noises
“…Oh Primus…”
She is having a time.
Is mentally stressing about the sparklings safety. The war is still going on and the base can only be safe if they keep it that way. Doesn’t even want to think about the sparklings getting hurt.
She isn’t the best at comfort.
But she does her best in keeping the kiddos in check and safe.
Gets Jack to help her with them. Jack is just happy to help, because he is sure that Arcee might have a mental breakdown if one of them got a tiny scrap on their knee.
Due to her vehicle mode not beginning the safest for sparkling travel, she makes up for it doing piggyback rides.
Bulkhead
Sparkling noises
“Oh, thank Primus it’s not scraplets…”
He is so relief they are not scraplets.
He wants to be around the sparklings but at the same time wants to keep his distance. Bulkhead has a track record of accidents that happen due to him being a klutz.
Thanks to Miko’s help he does find a way to keep an optic on the sparklings and still being safe around them.
The first on is that he has to sit down with his backside against the wall and have the sparklings around his lap. That way he can tell stories and act as a jungle gym at the same time.
The other option is having them inside his alt-mode while driving.
He takes caution with the sparklings inside, meaning no dune bashing.
Wheeljack
Sparkling noises
“I want this one.”--Wheeljack
“Wheeljack—”--Ratchet
“Meet Jackie jr.”--Wheeljack
He likes sparklings.
Might have come as a surprise to the others but it wasn’t at the same time. Wheeljack has had experience with kids in the past and he is a good babysitter. One of the best in the entire team.
Reason 1, he knows his strengths and won’t accidentally step on one of them. He gets a lot of ‘uppises’ requests.
Reason 2, he can entertain the sparklings for hours with fun harmless science experiments. They have to be runned by the Doc first. The last time he didn’t do that he ended up with wrench marks at his helm as he was teaching the youngsters how to make a grenade.
Reason 3, he has plenty of stories to share, while keeping them all G rated. He is not dumb enough to tell them what actually happened, he still wouldn’t tell them even if they were older.
Wheeljack has been known to steal certain sparklings and take them out on trips in the Jackhammer or in his alt-mode.
Smokescreen
“Hi there little guy!”--Smokescreen
“Smokescreen you’re holding them upside down!”—Ratchet
He is too excited to see the sparklings.
He had never seen a sparkling before, so this was a special moment. Smokescreen is always the first to volunteer to take care the sparklings.
Loves the feeling of being looked up to and lives for it. He wants to be a good role model for them and tries his best.
He does sometimes forget where he might have put a sparkling here and there but that usually happens when he takes too many sparklings that he can handle. Thankfully for the most part he does remember in the end where he put them, or Bumblebee finds them before he can.
Why is it always Bumblebee who finds them, not even he knows why.
He is banned from taking the sparklings out in his alt-mode after speeding too much.
Ultra magnus
Sparkling noises
“I am going to read the entire Autobot code to them when its bedtime.”—Ultra Magnus
He has done this. Wheeljack walked in on him doing this and claimed to the others that he was torturing them with cruel and unusual punishment.
Magnus is not amused.
He is one of the best babysitters on the team besides Wheeljack and Bumblebee. Magnus knows how to be gentle and careful with smaller beings. After all he has had a lot of practice due to his tall stature on Cybertron and on Earth.
He can get the little beans to sleep faster than anyone else. Does not matter if they had a tiring day or are still full of energy, he can make them fall asleep in record time.
He likes to talk to them as if they were fully grown Cybertronians and has held interesting conversations with them. Secretly has a data pad full of the things the sparklings like and dislike.
He has taken a few sparklings out of the base at night and driven around the base to help them sleep better.
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katz-chow · 7 months
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Coming from puff puffs blog 🤧🤥 hope you don't mind 😝🙈🙉 ur also totally gaining a new follower..
WHAT ARE YOUR HEADCANONS ON SOAP? 🥰🥰🥰 unless you've already done this before then I am so sorry 😓
relationship with soap headcanons
warnings: sfw, fluff, some angst, relationship arguments, family trauma mentioned, religious trauma, homophobia, bad dad
a/n: my fav cod man is soap so this took my top priority!!! i think about this man a lot, 09 and reboot version. reboot is my fav though, realistically, he's who i would actually get with. here’s all the things i’ve thought about him, there’s probably more tbh… OK OK HERE :))
childhood hcs
johnny soap mactavish comes from a large family of 5 siblings, he's the second oldest. it's elsie, him, blair, callum, and olivia.
growing up in a family of mainly girls got him on that respect women juice. he would always have to make sure his younger siblings are ok and aren't you know, being bullied. his parents were adamant on 2 year age gaps between them all.
his cousin, jack, was an sas operator and that was what made him want to join. they had to call security forces to arrest him out at some point because he kept sneaking in to watch them do stuff lol
elsie left for uni with her bf to live in soho when johnny was 16, the same year he would talk to recruiters around his hometown, driving hours and then getting rejected the same day due to his age
9th grade (year 10) chemistry got him obsessed with stem and its *explosive* results. he aced chemistry and then took advanced chemistry and physics just because he loved it so much
after this, as soon as he turned 18, he went to sign his papers THEN graduated school (he's just like me fr). his mom was so worried for him, especially when her sister told her about the danger that jack would get himself into. in the end, he promised he'll always call her and his siblings
his dad's an ass, hes an alcoholic, a cheater, a *bitch*... he would always take the kids to church on sundays and twisted the religion into a reason for his behavior. claiming that johnny's mom being at home was just "their culture"
she makes a killer shepherd's pie though
always had had some sort of love-hate relationship with the catholic faith. on one hand, it was nice to know there's always at least someone watching out for him, but after hearing the constant belittlement from his father, claiming he wasn't "manly enough" for not willing to give his life up in the service, he started to resent the “all merciful”.
he ended up blaming god for all his faults, letting him take accountability. this especially happened when he got diagnosed with adhd when he was 17, his dad didn’t believe in mental health. his mom was only a bit better about it, they both refused meds for him.
he's bisexual, leans towards women though. found this out after a truth or dare game in junior year (year 12) and some beers in a closet
at one point, callum acccidently let it slip at dinner when johnny had first moved out that he had met a cute guy and their dad screamed and yelled at the whole family, especially their mom, about "raising a fucking whore of a son, dragging the family down to shite"
blair called and told johnny a few days later and johnny rushed his work as quickly as possible and begged his chain of command for a few days off to go back home to his family
his family gets loud…like really loud. there’s 7 people what do you expect?
it gets especially bad when it’s sunday morning and you gotta get 7 people awake and looking their church best for an hour and a half 😔
johnny is the quickest everything there is, which has its downsides too. he could run and swim the fastest in the family, but he was also the quickest eater…meaning he’s on dish washing duty. he’s quick at that too so by the time everyone’s finished, he’s washed all the other dishes that took to make dinner
broke his arm chasing a cat through someone’s yard (he was 14)
had a goat scream and kicked him because he wanted to give it a hug
he got a part time job at a local bakery in 10th grade (year 11). the pay wasn’t much but neither was the work really. olivia, who was 9 at the time, made him promise that he’ll get her a doll to have tea with. her tea set had 4 cups but only one of her, so she must get another one to join her! he kept his promise; he ended up getting three dolls for her
he can make amazing soda bread and brioche loafs now too, still keeps a starter from the owner of the bakery to this day
he had a mountain bicycle that he would take everywhere. had room behind his seat for packages and his backpack, which he would tie down. that thing had such a loud bell too, would ring constantly to “let people know hes coming and get ready”
was terrified of selkies for some reason, always had the window closed and made callum sleep by it while he slept by the door
wasn’t much of a troublemaker, but would get into trouble with his adventurous heart.
got lost in the woods once and after a while of fake courage, he sat down and cried until elsie found him. he was 20 yards (13 meters) away from the clearing 😭😭
laugh at that guys, mf was 15
personality & relationship hcs
johnny is such a fun lover. he’s handsome yeah, but what makes ppl flaunt over him is his humor. he’s what jessica rabbit said “he makes me laugh”
such a charismatic and charming person, gets it from his dad. he could talk about just about anything, also the type to strike up a conversation with a stranger at the grocery store. then end up with their number and a date or helping them dog sit
this isn’t always a good thing though, one time before he was medicated, he would talk on and on, his story becoming incoherent due to the amount of self-interruptions he made, that a group of guys got so annoyed at that pub, they punched him.
he was young, 19, and couldn’t fight, so he didn’t win and came back to the barracks with a nasty black eye
he likes to be the big spoon, has to hold something in order to sleep
feel like he’s the type to wrap his arms around a pillow and lay on his stomach to sleep
speaking of sleeping, he HATES sleeping with socks on. he tried it one day and he just shivered at the feel of it, woke up and his socks were missing (he found them under the bed)
i also feel like he sleeps like a log, unmoving once he finds his comfort, i also think it's because he had to sleep in the same bed as his siblings at one point and he didn't want to wake them by moving, so he got accustomed to being a still sleeper
one time he accidentally got into a fight at a bar when a guy kept being misogynistic and was arrested and kept in jail for the whole night until one of his civilian friends bailed him out
johnny's the type to race you in the rain to the car. again, he's quick so he's always ahead of you but then he slips from the rain and ends up all wet and muddy and in the car.
his favorite thing to do is hear you laugh. he'll do anything to hear you laugh.
whenever you're sad, he'll purposely stub his toe or trip down the stairs or make you kiss his "owie" (a papercut) to get you to cheer up. like yeah it hurts like a fucking bitch but seeing you sad hurts more than a silly tumble
number one date event is city exploring and hopping. like cafe hopping, pub hopping, museum hopping, restaurant hopping, anything that makes you get up and get going with time to sit and chill at the same time.
feels like he can eat a lot, he's the type to eat your food if you end up not liking it or being too full
when he gets home from missions and the initial excitement of seeing you dies down, he also dies down and nap for hours until it's the middle of the night and he gets up to eat something.
he loves naps. feels like he needs a nap time every day if it was possible
he's a very kind lover, he's easy going so its not hard that sometimes people take advantage of this and push his buttons until he can't take it anymore
causes a huge blowup because he can have a nasty temper whenever he bottles stuff up and pushes things aside
not a physical manifestation of anger, but definitely a verbal anger, will say things he doesn't really mean just to say it and realize right after the words leave his lips that he fucked up
but he'll stake out in front of the guest bedroom in which you've locked yourself in until you come out and he gets the chance to forgive you
the type to stand in the rain and hold a sign saying sorry right outside your window, a very cheesy romcom style (gaz made him watch them)
he loves you more than anything and loves you even more than you can keep up with him and laugh at his jokes, no matter how awful they are
he wants 4 kids by the way
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littledigits · 9 months
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That time when working in animation made me realize I needed therapy
Since we're on the topic of overworking / being passionate in animation and blah blah blah.  I want to share my story about working on the first season of Hilda (for context I was the animation director), specifically..how completely garbo my mental health got because 
I INSISTED ON WORKING MYSELF INTO THE GROUND. 
This is a story I've shared when I've had a chance to do lectures or talks, and if there is one really awesome thing that comes with ..weird ..animation clout, its that you can use those powers for good in terms of teaching people about the BS that comes with the job...anyway.
The reason why I like to talk about this is because I insisted on doing it to myself, and that was really got me thinking about the factors that do lead us into over working. Because heres the deal
Hilda season 1 was, without getting into too many details, a heckofatime...especally for the core crew. we were a small group, doing something new because most of us haven't worked on a show before that included pre production. My entire career up to that point had been working on service work for shows that were created in Burbank, so the new pipeline had a ton of challenges. We did all care, and we all believed in the project SOOOO much. I would tell people not to work over time, because I want my team to leave on time - but I was there...a lot. Leaving the studio by 11pm , working through the weekends..it wasnt an uncommon thing for me. sure , it wasnt all the time, but this stuff spans years sometimes so it went in waves. But whenever the challenges came up, i doubled down. because I super believed in it.
  And the thing was - other people told me to stop. I had a lot of valid concerns given to me by my friends and team members who saw how I was burning myself out at both ends. And I thought like, well , its my *choice*.  Its my chance to have a voice and be creative and try to do something different and we all have to push ourselves and yes its HARD but. THATS HOW YOU DO IT RIGHT? surely if I just make sure I’m the one overworking and my team isn't.. that's fine. 
Well, no, I was immensely effecting my team maybe I wasn’t telling them to work late, but they were seeing me get more and more tired and stay later and later.  I thought they would still approach me for help, or if they struggled. But the issues they had they kept to themselves without wanting to put more on my shoulders. Because they *cared* , just as much as I did ..and we all took more on our shoulders then we should have and there were a lot of things that I could have solved had I fostered a better communication environment.  I became really resentful in my head over the smallest things, I actually saw myself becoming a more hateful person and easily annoyed. I came home every day rambling about the frustrations. Now, let me preface this by saying - my mental state did not only have to do with overworking. I had and have things still to unpack, but the control I had over work and the validation I got from it was a coping mechanism for me. I really didnt think i had any worth as a person outside of this job. It basically was a very nasty cycle that didnt stop until ...well I had gotten so bad I had to.  By the end of the first season I was actually incredibly close to quitting . I was in big anxiety attack territory because I was so worn thin- I had started therapy but eventually moved onto getting medication as well and that was what allowed me to stick it out. ( I have the same therapist and I am on the same meds, it was very hard to do at the time, but i cant imagine my life now without making that choice ). After it was done I was immensely supported by the studio and worked part time as a trainer, which is what i requested to give my brain a break. (Only a few of my closer friends knew how bad I was getting but it was pretty obvious I needed to rest) I'm really proud of the work we did and we keep doing on the show, ..and some other people may have gone through something similar and found it was worth it, but thats not me. I still struggle not to fall back into that mindset, but it helps knowing that if i keep myself out of it , i can help my team out of it, because I know they care about this show just as much as I do. I’m not a martyr, I am a leader, and its up to me to keep myself healthy so I can keep my crew healthy.   I always strive to be better, but i get to decide what that looks like - and for me ..better has nothing to do with the image on the screen. Its got more to do with the experience of the people around me. Readjusting those priorities has helped a lot with keeping my head above water and not add to the pressure that makes it so hard not to get sucked down in the first place.  I do think its good to talk about though , how our passion and language and drive can lead to a lot of us being a part of this cycle. And if theres one good thing about the challenges, its sharing them so at least others can learn faster then you did ;) . take care of yourself friends.
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smolkiwi98 · 1 year
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hi! i'm not sure if youre alright with it and im sorry if youre not, but could you write some non sexual domination with steve or eddie? so its consensual but not really for pleasure. something like reader and him having agreements on things she should and should not do, things she wants to improve but has a hard time with and punishments and maybe she breaks a rule and he gives her a spanking and lots of after care of course. again, sorry if its somthing youre not comfortable with
I'm sorry if this one seems rushed as well! I hope you enjoy!
masterlist
if you want to make a request click here
!WARNING! brief mentions of spanking, one spank is mentioned, depression and anxiety is mentioned, dom/sub dynamic but not in a sexual way! I think that's it.
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It was simple. You do certain things and get rewarded for doing those certain things, but those things are so hard to complete no matter how simple they are! Your relationship with Eddie is amazing and what’s great is he’s always there to help no matter what. He wants nothing but the best for you. Which is why the two of you have come to an agreement to bring your dom/sub dynamic out of the bedroom and into normal everyday things. No you weren’t doing spicy things out in public (no matter how many times Eddie jokes about it), you were simply doing what your dom asks. Following tasks…following his rules. Not for sexual pleasure, no. For your well being. Making sure you’re taking care of yourself. 
The rules were simple, but sometimes mentally…it was hard. It was hard to remember to take your meds on time, brush your hair, brush your teeth, wash your hair. These are things you’re supposed to automatically do, like it's nothing! But your anxiety gets in the way. Your depression stops you. You hated it and wanted to better yourself, but no matter how times you’ve tried it just didn’t work. It would last about 3 days and then it would all just stop, so you and Eddie decided on rules and if those rules are broken then you get punished. Again not a sexual thing. A lifestyle to help you. 
“Okay, Princess. What are your tasks for today?” Eddie asks you as he walks to the front door. He had gotten you up and ready for the day while he got ready for work. You followed him around the trailer as he got ready to leave. Finally he turned and looked at you “Sweetheart?” He asked, making you blink, “Oh! Um…Make myself lunch, clean up the living room, and do laundry.” Eddie nodded “Aaaand?” He said, watching you, “Take my meds?” He smiled and nodded “Yup! You’re so smart.” He said while pulling you into a hug “I’ll be back around 6 tonight.” He said while kissing your head “I love you.” He said against your forehead. You smiled and squeezed him a little tighter “I love you too, Eds.” He smiled and kissed you one more time before leaving for work. You smiled and closed the door and turned around to look at the trailer, “This shouldn’t be too bad.” You said to yourself and walked to the room to get the laundry together. 
~ 4 Hours ~
You had separated the laundry and managed to get all the under clothes in the washer, but the only issue is they’ve been in there for about an hour now…maybe longer? The jeans pile and the shirt pile laid on the floor of the living room. The living room wasn’t messy. The only thing to pick up were some cups and empty candy wrappers…which were still on the end tables. The only task you actually got done was taking your medicine and that’s only because Eddie called to make sure you did take them! Your first  mistake was turning on the tv and finding out your favorite movie was on, your second mistake was finding your favorite nail polish on the end table and your third mistake? Convincing yourself all your tasks were done. That’s another problem you have. You find something other things to do and just tell yourself everything on your to-do list was done!
You sat on the coffee table sitting criss crossed while you painted your nails and watched the movie. You were so engulfed by nail painting and the movie that you didn’t realize the door was opening. Eddie walked in and kicked off his boots and looked over at you. He smiled thinking how cute you looked while painting your nails, your tongue was sticking out as you concentrated. He walked a little closer and his smile slowly fell when he saw the two piles of clothes on the floor in front of you and then looked at the end tables and saw the trash still sitting there, “Princess.” He said making you jump. You smiled wide and got up and made your way over to him hugging him tight “I missed you!” You exclaimed while wrapping your arms around him. Eddie hugged you back, but it wasn’t a squeeze that he usually gave you after work. You pulled away and looked up at him frowning “Are you okay?” You asked. Maybe he had a bad day? Eddie took a small step back and crossed his arms “How did your tasks go?” He asked “Oh! I got a load of laundry done and I took my medicine.” You said smiling, completely forgetting about the trash and the other two piles of clothes. Eddie nodded his head “Where’s that load of laundry?” You turned around to point at the laundry basket, but found that it was empty which made you frown, “I thought I put it in the basket.” You said quietly. Eddie bent down a little so he was making eye contact with you and gently took a hold of your face. His thumb and fingers squishing your cheeks “I think you need to take a closer look at the living room, Sweetheart.” He said while turning your head back towards the living room. You looked around and you were confused at first until it clicked. Your eyes widened and you looked back at him ‘The load is still in the washer…” You mumbled. Eddie chuckled almost like he was amazed “Did you even look at the floor? What about the tables? Huh?” He said, “Try again.” He said making you look back. You sighed when you finally saw what he was talking about. How could you be so stupid. You looked down “I didn’t clean the living room and I didn’t finish the laundry.” You said. Eddie did nothing but nod and take your hand and started to walk to the bedroom. 
The small walk to the room had you confused, but once Eddie sat down on the bed man spreading you realized you were going to be punished. A small blush made its way on your cheeks and you played with your fingers “Come on, Princess. You know the drill.” He said while patting his lap. You sighed and slowly made your way across his lap. You put your face in the bed and held onto his thigh. His hand ran up and down thigh, pushing your soft night shorts up so the bottom of your ass peaked out. You shivered, his rings were so cold against your skin, “Now…before I start tell me what you did all day.” He always did this. Made you explain your day so you can figure out what you did wrong and if you lied then your punishment would just be worse. “I…I started the first load of clothes and took my medicine.” He hummed signaling for you to continue “I separated the rest of the clothes. I turned the tv on for background noise and saw that a movie was on…and I also found my nail polish.” You mumbled, “Okay. What was your first mistake?” He asked “I turned the tv on?” You asked “Right. I’ve told you no tv until you finish your tasks.” He said as he stopped rubbing your bottom “I think 10 spanks is good, yeah?” You nodded your head “I won’t make you count this time.” Again you nodded and responded with a quiet ‘okay.’ Eddie brought his hand up and spanked you. You silently thanked him for not going so hard this time, you guessed it was because he didn’t think of the issue as a huge one. 
After the 10 spanks he slowly lifted you up and gently set you down on his lap. Your legs on either side of him making you straddle him “How are you feeling?” He whispered while wiping the small tears that threatened to fall. You sniffed “I’m okay.” You said quietly “Lay on your tummy for me, okay?” He said which you just responded with a nod. You climbed off of him and laid on your tummy. Your bottom hurt, but it wasn’t as bad as his other punishments. You watched as he moved around the room and grabbed different things. Finally he was back by you and spread your legs a little “I’m gonna pull your shorts down, alright Princess.” He always announced what he was doing when you couldn’t see what he was doing, it made you feel safe and it made him more comfortable with you knowing what he was doing. You could hear a cap being opened and already knew he was going to put soothing cream where had spanked you. Even though it wasn’t harsh, the cream still felt nice against your burning skin. You let out a small sigh and closed your eyes as he massaged you.  Every now and then he would leave little kisses on the back of your thighs, “Do you want to wear these shorts or just one of my shirts?” He asked standing up. You sat up and turned around to face him “I kinda wanna wear my shorts until we go to bed.” You said. Eddie nodded and leaned in to give you a small kiss on the lips, “How about you finish the laundry while I cook us some dinner.” He said. You pouted not really wanting to do the laundry right now, but the pout just made Eddie give you a stern look “Okay.” You said and stood up from the bed, but before you could walk out the room Eddie scooped you up and carried you to the living room “Finish the laundry and I might make you a milkshake.” He said while setting you down. 
Well now you had something to work for.
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olderthannetfic · 12 days
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https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/744798398911266817/a-question-a-bit-out-of-the-usual-ones-but-do-you?source=share
NB, vagina owner, sensory processing issues haver, took several years of effort to learn to orgasm, heres some tips;
Psychology is a BIG aspect of being able to get off for some people. Some people really need to be 'in the mood' at first. The Need To Be Horny. Really into what they are doing and what they are imagining. You need to be able to let go and lean into the sensation, mentally. Try watching or reading things that turn you on, really wind yourself up for a bit, then ensure you arent going to be interrupted and give it a shot. Really focus on your fantasy, try to really focus on the sensation and don't get sidetracked. It can make a difference for sure. Its why some people can 'cum on command'- the frame of mind is important.
Being used to the sensation you need to lean into can take work. When I first started jerking off it was so intense it 'hurt' because I have sensory processing issues and it was new weird stimulus my brain decided to register stupid, so id slow down or stop or get distracted and not get off. I had to teach my body to accept the feeling and do it in a way that didnt mess with my sensory processing as much (which ironically involved causing a little pain and being a little rough because phsyical-pain isnt severely uncomfortable the way discomfort-pain is). When you are used to it you also relax more and get into the right frame of mind. The feeling like your guts are tensing and building towards something, maybe a hazy sort of liquid fire in your skull going down your spine? Keep chasing that, really focus on it. That means you are heading in the right direction. It took me several years of dedicated kind-of edging before the feeling stopped being so intense it prevented me from making it to the other side.
Try different stuff. You might not like how you are doing things right now. If all youve done is penetration with your fingers, try clitoral. If all you've done is a gentle stroking motion, try a jerk-off motion if you can get your fingers around your clit, or a kinda rough grinding. If you usually keep your body still, try humping the whatever for the heady 'lose yourself in the moment'. If you usually move around, try being still so you dont distract yourself too much from the intensity. If you are always on your back, try your stomach or side or kneeling upright. Toys! Try rubbing different textures on your clit or getting a real toy like a strong vibrator or sucker. Cheap 20$ vibrators can do the job if you need something a bit better than your hands, but you may have to step up for the good intense shit or a fancy vibrating dildo or something. Try different kink stuff you imagine or do or watch like self-ties for bondage or hypno kink audio files* or whatever, try some 'foreplay' (touch your tits or somesuch). Some people like anal also. Figure out what feels nice -what puts you in that tense shivery-hot coiled-spring sorta feeling- and do that- dont just do what you think you 'should' do.
/* For safety prelisten to these in chunks or look at a script to be sure its what you want and always keep scissors near you if you are self-tying to get free if there is issues, do kink safety right dont stick anything up your ass you could lose, etc etc
Finally, some people just cant cum for whatever reason (meds, trauma, etc) and thats ok. So long as you are enjoying the sensation and having fun, you are masturbating 'correctly'.
--
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mother-marilynn · 2 months
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୨୧୨୧୨୧୨୧୨୧୨୨୧୨୧╭────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────╮୨୧୨୧୨୧୨୧୨୧୨୨୧୨୨୧
· ·· ·· ·· ·· ·· ·· ··How to stay productive during the week. · ·· ·· ·· ·· ·· ·
୨୧୨୧୨୧୨୧୨୧୨୨୧୨୧╰────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────╯୨୧୨୧୨୧୨୧୨୧୨୨୧୨୧
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ʚ♡ɞ Block distractions.
{ Things like planned brunch with friends and going to get mani-pedi's does wonders for your mental health and sanity during the week, but try and limit un-needed distractions that come up. }
ʚ♡ɞ Make sure your getting enough sleep.
{ Beauty sleep is so essential for our concentration and focus so make sure your getting at least 8-9 hours of sleep each night. }
ʚ♡ɞ Delegate.
{ Don't try and be wonderwoman!! If it's possible try and see if anyone else would be willing to help you if your load is particularly heavy. }
ʚ♡ɞ Stop multitasking.
{ Make sure to slow down and take things steady!! Quality of work can become lessened when you try and finish several tasks at once too quickly, so take your time!! Good things take time. }
ʚ♡ɞ Begin your day with movement.
{ Even if the movement is just walking around for a few minutes or some stretches before you run out the door, try taking small steps to warm yourself up for the day before heading to work // school. }
ʚ♡ɞ Disconnect.
{ The world won't fall apart if you take some time away from your phone and laptop or don't text that person back!! Remember your brain needs a break, try reading, going for a walk, or even taking a nap during your screen break. }
ʚ♡ɞ Take breaks.
{ Don't push yourself too much, remember to take some time to yourself and take a breather. }
ʚ♡ɞ Schedule everything.
{ Try using a planner to schedule every event during your work week, even if its a small planner from the dollar store. ( What I use. ) It can be a game changer for staying on top of things. }
ʚ♡ɞ Eat nourishing meals.
{ Try to stay away from junk food, fast food, and high calorie // low protein foods!! Remember food is fuel so make sure you giving your body what it needs to be productive. }
ʚ♡ɞ Develop a good morning routine.
{ I didn't say it had to be perfect, just good!! Take a cold shower, take your meds + vitam, eat a small meal, tidy your room, get ready, and brush your teeth, Easy. Developing a simple morning routine can help you start your day off more composed!! }
ʚ♡ɞ Exercise
{ Don't get me wrong, having a workout routine during a busy week can be a little difficult at times, But trust me you'll feel so much more energized and excited to start your day after a quick workout or even just some yoga and pilates. }
ʚ♡ɞ Make to do lists.
{ This one seems a little obvious but to do lists are absolutely my bread and butter when it comes to starting off my week good. The key is to make one for everyday, add the big and little stuff, and to always keep it with you. It will keep you 100% more organized and put together. }
ʚ♡ɞ Simplify your routine.
{ Doing things like setting out your clothes the night before, programming your coffee maker, and filling your water bottle the night before are so simple but can really help make your mornings go smoother. }
ʚ♡ɞ Don't put things off.
{ Just remembered you need to wash your good white button up for tomorrow? Instead of waiting till right before bed then kicking yourself for not remembering sooner like you thought you would, JUST WASH IT WHEN YOU THINK OF IT. Again, it might be obvious, but it really does help. }
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Suggestions for blog posts is always appreciated so comment any things you'd like to see!
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dissociacrip · 3 months
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this turned into a long adhd rant whoopsie
it really does suck how people seem to downplay autism and adhd now lol. autism has been reduced to people who can mask and have low support needs and adhd hasn't really changed from its status as a joke.
i don't talk about adhd much but it probably gets in the way of me being able to function just as much, if not more than autism does (in my personal situation) when it comes to mental disability. not showering enough. not cooking. not cleaning my living space properly. forgetting to brush my teeth. dishes sitting in the sink for so long they start getting moldy. only being able to maybe do 1-3 tasks a day maximum because my brain can't organize itself enough to do more than that. difficulty committing to things and being consistent in overarching ways. being late to things a lot. highly impaired verbal recall so i forget things people say to me, forget verbal instructions, etc. on top of the other acutely stressful situations that come with memory and regulating my attention span (e.g. locking my keys in my car or locking myself out of my house when i have a very limited support network to remediate those situations.)
my meds barely touch this stuff for me and i'm not especially inclined to increase the dosage after bordering on psychosis when i was taking 40mg of vyvanse. i've just become so accustomed to living the way that i do (because my case is pretty bad afaik) so i can't just will myself to be another way. any efforts i make to change or be more organized and routine and consistent end up getting dashed away because i just cannot do it lol. my shit just doesn't work. adhd is a massive barrier between me and being a functioning person or being able to take care of myself. i'm pretty sure would still be a "gross" and unpalatable disabled person even if my muscles worked and i didn't have POTS/etc. that also get in the way of my hygiene and the cleanliness of my living space.
that doesn't even go into how other people react to it. a good chunk of physical and verbal abuse i faced from my family as a child was related to my adhd symptoms. i was diagnosed at a young age but my parents "forgot" it happened and it was never addressed otherwise. i got constantly called disgusting for my hygiene problems and was threatened with violence over it (on top of the times where i was actually getting assaulted.) people take my impaired verbal recall and lack of impulse control irt accidentally cutting people off or interrupting them personally, accusing me of not caring enough when it's something that is extremely difficult to be aware of or manage when adhd is a condition that distinctly involves impaired awareness of your own behavior.
so when i see shit like "just set alarms" or anything else that amounts to "you're not trying hard enough" or adhd not very much being a disability, especially when it's coming from other people w/ adhd, it kinda makes me wanna stab things with knives.
sure, it's not the worst condition ever, but just like most other disabilities, the way it affects everyone who is it is different and some are gonna be able to manage it better than others. sure, there a lot of really fucking annoying people (usually able-bodied) w/ adhd on social media that have large platforms and who very often profit from or encourage liberal pop psych bullshit when it comes to adhd, but it's still very much a disability. it can affect hygiene. it can affect employment or otherwise means of earning an income. it can affect our social lives and whether we have a support system. it can affect whether someone can keep their house from getting infested with bugs or mold. it is very much something that causes dysfunction in ways that aren't nearly as cutesy as the little comics you might see on instagram are drawn.
just remember that.
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the-remaining-half · 6 months
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I think I have finally slowly internalised the fact that motivation is a feeling, an emotion just like any other. It comes and goes as it please.
And well my study schedule cannot change to adjust to my bouts of motivation.
The key for me, I realised, was discipline.
Yes it’s hard and sucky and I hate it. But I do it anyway. Because if I don’t, the regret that I feel later on makes me hate myself. And I fear that regret so much.
So for me its a choice - I can either suffer the pain of discipline or I can suffer the pain of regret. And if I’m going to be in pain anyway, why the heck should I not gain something out of it?
So I sit down to study.
Sure I also add things that will make it easy for me to do that. Because I, I love studying. Once I start, I really really enjoy the subjects I have chosen and the concepts I understand. I love learning.
But for me the really hard part is sitting down to study. So I work on that…
1. I just sit down. On time. With a schedule that I follow everyday so that I exert less mental strength trying to convince myself. I just know its time for me to study if I follow my schedule.
2. I am all about the little things, all about feeling good and in control. So I do that. I make a big and aesthetic affair out of sitting down to study. I prepare myself a snack and get myself something to drink and set my study area and books - I create a visual setup that appeals to me and makes me want to study.
3. I limit how many times I get up. I know people say that our attention span is short and we should use the pomodoro technique, but personally speaking it just does not work for me. I find it hard to get in the study zone but really easy to stay once I am there and concentrating and so taking many breaks actually really distracts me and take me out of my study zone. So I take less breaks and I make sure I already have everything I need with me before I sit down to study so that I do not have to get up.
4. I make the process fun for me. I know my way of studying, my strengths and my weaknesses. So I use them to my advantage. I am a very conceptual learner, I am a visual learner, I am prefer to write things down to slow myself and understand, I prefer my study material in my own language and my own way of explaining, I am a very organised person. I am very bad at memorising random facts that have no logic. So I incorporate all these in my notes - I make my notes very organised and aesthetic notes that help me memorise. I add diagrams and flowcharts of my own explanations. I use mnemonics that relate to me and are easy for me to remember (they are usually jokes that make people thing I have a very broken sense of humour).
5. I do not study in groups. I know again this is very controversial specially for med school but when I am understanding a new topic, I find the presence of people around me very distracting. I prefer to study in my room by myself. On the other hand, once I have studied the topic, I benefit from group discussions. I sit down with my friends and make them understand the topic… this helps them and it helps me. Teaching someone else is a very good way of revising for me and their questions make me think and understand parts I may have missed while studying.
6. I plan what I am going to study the next day, the might before. I put my pen on the first page of the topic or chapter or whatever and shut the book. This way I know I simply have to open my book and get down to study because everything else has been done before. It’s almost like I get rid of my possible excuses before hand. I decrease the resistance.
I feel sitting down and understanding your way of studying is important for this very reason. So that you can make your plan and study accordingly. It decreases so much resistance and makes you so sure of your ways.
It makes me enjoy studying and study better all the way!
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sasusakucoded · 5 months
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Sasuke: *shows the map* So, instead of this regular path, we will take this instead. *points at the route traversing the forest*
Sakura: Sasuke-kun, can we stop by here? *points at the nearest village*
Sasuke: I don't think so, Sakura. Our mission will be delayed if we enter any of the villages.
Sakura: I see..
Sasuke: Do you need anything from that village?
Sakura: N-No.. I agree, we must take the fastest route.
Sasuke: Okay.
It was a lie. Sakura needed to go to a village with good medical supplies to re-stock her meds. At that time, she was taking Zoloft, a drug used to treat panic attacks, OCD, PTSD, depression, etc. Konoha didn't have any mental health professional during those years, so she and other shinobis who suffered from anxiety and mild depression went to a psychiatrist from another village. Sasuke's absence and their unclear situation before his return were the main causes of her mild depression. The pressure from work to be the best in her field at a young age added to her daily anxiety.
They started their journey again, going faster than before to meet their target date.
Sakura: /thinks/ It's okay, Sakura. One to three days of missing your meds shouldn't be a problem. Besides, you plan to stop taking it permanently right? Just keep going and try to forget it.
Sasuke: Let's take a break?
Sakura: Huh?
Sasuke: I said let's stop and take a break..
Sakura: S-Sure. *keeps going*
Sasuke: *halts* Sakura!
Sakura: *looks back and stops* Oh! S-Sorry.. I didn't hear you.
Sasuke: *goes to her* We have enough shade here. It's a good location.
Sakura: Yeah.
---
Sasuke kept on looking at Sakura because he felt something was different. They had been together for 3 weeks now but this was the first time that she was very quiet.
Sakura: Aw! *touches her head*
Sasuke: Are you okay? What happened?
Sakura: It's.. It's normal, Sasuke-kun.. Brain zap.
Sasuke: Brain zap?
Sakura: *nods* Don't mind me. *fake smiles*
Sasuke: Are we good to go?
Sakura: Yes.
Sasuke: Just tell me when you're tired, okay?
Sakura: Yeah..
They continued running and Sakura felt like she was going to vomit.
Sakura: *stops and coughs while holding her chest*
Sasuke: Sakura! *goes back* Sakura! Hey.. *rubs her back* Do you want water? Maybe we went too early.. You probably haven't digested your food yet.
Sakura: No— It's my— It's my— *coughs and tries to puke but nothing comes out*
Sasuke: Sit down, Sakura. Don't force yourself.
Sakura: No, I'm fine.. Let's keep running. I don't want to delay this..
Sasuke: No, we're not going until you're okay—
Sakura: I won't be okay.. So, let's just continue..
Sasuke: Hey.. *holds her face* What's happening? Please tell me.. I— I want to help.
Sakura: I'm sorry.. I didn't want to be a burden—
Sasuke: You're not. You're.. You're more important than this mission..
Sakura: Sasuke-kun! *starts sobbing*
Sasuke: If you don't want to tell me, it's okay I—
Sakura: I skipped my meds.. I have no meds left.
Sasuke: Meds? *checks his bag* What do you need?
Sakura: *stops him* You don't have them.. They're antidepressants.
Sasuke didn't know that Sakura was suffering from depression. Her happy disposition made him think otherwise.
Sasuke: I'm sorry.. I didn't know you're going through things..
Sakura: It's dumb.. I was worried of the littlest things.. I was worried you were not coming back.. I was scared I won't be as good as Lady Tsunade.. So, I went to a psychiatrist outside The Leaf to seek help. She gave me meds..
Sasuke: Is that the reason why you wanted to stop by a village? You should've told me, Sakura.. Tsk, it's my fault—
Sakura: No.. I thought I'll be fine.. I started taking those meds a week before you came back. I was supposed to withdraw from it but the psychiatrist said it will take me 2 months to see its benefits.
Sasuke: Do you feel better when you take them?
Sakura: Yeah. But I also feel the side effects.. Like right now, the brain zaps I'm getting is crazy. I'm nauseous and my heart is beating so fast.. There's a jarring pain in my head.. I don't know how to make them stop..
Sasuke: *takes out his map* Should we go to the nearest village?
Sakura: They don't have mental clinics there, so I doubt they have available meds.. It's okay, Sasuke-kun—
Sasuke: It's not. You're not well, Sakura. Y-You're different.. I know something is wrong..
Sakura: I told you it's— *palpitates*
Sasuke: Sakura! Sakura!
Sasuke panicked. He didn't know what to do so he just hugged her. He realized how her body was shaking really badly. He stared into her eyes and noticed how lifeless they looked. It worried him so much.
Sakura: I.. I can't.. Breathe. *faints*
Sasuke: Sakura! Sakura!
Sasuke took her to the nearest cave and immediately sent a hawk to Tsunade, Kabuto, and Orochimaru. He received their replies within 2 hours, which frustrated Sasuke because it was too long for him.
Sasuke: Sakura.. Sakura.. You have to eat before you take your meds.
Sakura: *tries to open her eyes* But I don't have—
Sasuke: I wrote a note to the 5th Hokage and she was able to send us some pills. *shows her* Is this correct? Zoloft?
Sakura: Yes! Oh my..
Sasuke: Okay, you have to eat first.. I prepared some sort of tomato soup. Sorry, I know you don't like it—
Sakura: I'll eat it.. I'll eat anything you made..
Sasuke: Okay.. *feeds her* By the way, she has a personal note for you.. *gives a closed mini envelope*
Sakura: *takes out the note and reads it*
Dear Sakura,
Sorry if it took me time to send the pills. You know we don't have them in Konoha, so I had to ask from another place.
I've talked to the psychiatrist. You should still take them until you reach the 2nd month. From there you can stop taking them if you can. I know you're feeling better nowadays with Sasuke by your side. You should know that there's a condition called Serotonin Syndrome. If you're already happy, that means your serotonin levels are high. Which also means you don't need to take meds anymore. Too much serotonin is harmful too.
Once you're available, visit your psychiatrist to make sure that your brain chemicals are balanced. That's all my dear. I hope you'll be okay soon.
Sincerely,
Tsunade
Sasuke: *sees her smiling* Another spoonful, Sakura?
Sakura: *nods*
Sasuke: After this, rest for a bit.. Then when you're ready I'll massage your back.
Sakura: Massage?
Sasuke: Yeah. Orochimaru said it's good for blood flow..
Sakura: Orochimaru? You also wrote to him?
Sasuke: Yes.. And to Kabuto too.. *gives her one pill and a glass of water* Here, Sakura..
Sakura: *takes it* Thanks, Sasuke-kun.. I.. I didn't know you'll understand my situation.. Of all people.. You see.. I've told this to my parents.. They said I'm strong and it's nothing.. Like, I've fought wars.. So, it must be nothing. I tried telling Ino too.. She thought I was joking..
Sasuke: Sakura..
Sakura: I'm just genuinely happy that you understand this. *smiles softly*
Sasuke: Sakura.. Our brain is a major organ.. Just like our heart or our kidney or our liver, our brain can become sick too. And those people who suffer from heart illnesses, you don't tell them it's nothing. You know it's something serious.
Sakura: Sasuke-kun!
Sasuke: I couldn't tell whether I got depressed before, but I know the feeling of extreme loneliness..
Sakura: *smiles* Sasuke-kun..
Sasuke: It was worse than any physical illness.. I couldn't function correctly.. So, I kind of know how you are feeling..
Sakura: *nods*
Sasuke: Ah, Kabuto suggested to play some music to make your brain a bit relaxed.. I chose a song when you were sleeping.. *plays it*
Sakura: *listens* Nothing's really wrong yet.. Nothing's really wrong yet.. Yeah.. That's correct.
Sasuke: Do you like it?
Sakura: Yes!
Sasuke: Okay. Rest here for a bit. I'll get some wood. When I get back, I'll massage your back.
Sakura: Okay.. Um.. Sasuke-kun!
Sasuke: Hm?
Sakura: Thank you..
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themultifandomgal · 11 months
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Matt- Meeting Him
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My first day as the new trauma surgeon and I'm already late. What a great first impression. I slide into the drivers seat of my car, placing my bag on the front seat I put on my seatbelt and pull off my driveway.
It's winter and so cold in Chicago that I go go turn the heating on, that's when I realise a car is heading straight towards me. Am I on the wrong side of the road? No. It's them. Swerving so I don't have a head on collision I end up rolling down a bank hitting a tree then I black out.
My head is pounding when I come to... not a good sign. I reach up to touch my head and see blood... great I've cut my head open and probably have a concussion. I go to open the car but the door won't budge. I lean over to try the other but I can't reach, my belt is in the way. I try to unbuckle my seat belt but it's stuck. My phone is on the floor where I can't reach. I'm stuck. All I can do is hope that help is on its way and soon, because I'm pretty sure I can smell gas now.
Thankfully I'm not waiting long when I hear sirens so I do the only thing I can think of to get their attention and that's honk my horn. I then see some men in fireman gear stood at the top of the bank. I can relax. I manage to roll down my window when one of the men arrive
"My seatbelt is stuck. I can't open the door" I tell the man
"Ok we're going to get you out of here. Capp get the spreaders. Can you tell me your name?"
"YN YLN. Today was meant to be my first day as the new trauma surgeon at Med"
"Well you sure are going to make one hell of a entrance YN" the fireman jokes with me
"I think I can smell gas"
"Ok. Hang in there. Capp the spreaders now!" He yells and a guy who I'm guessing is called Capp runs down the bank "let's get you out of here"
"What's your name?" I ask
"Severide. Kelly Severide"
That was 2 weeks ago. Im now back at work and feeling a lot better than I did that day so I've baked the firehouse cookies on my day off
"Hey can I help you?"
"Oh errm hi. Is Kelly here? I wanted to drop these off for him and the guys who helped me a few weeks ago"
"Yeah come with me" I follow the man to see Kelly sat at a table with Capp and Cruze who helped me
"Special delivery"
"I just wanted to say thank you for helping me. These are for you guys" I give Kelly the box of biscuits
"You didn't have to"
"Yeah I did. Anyway I best go. I have an appointment to go to"
"You got another car?"
"No" I say quickly "No I'm well it's kinda embarrassing really but..."
"I get it. Want a lift?"
"Oh no I couldn't..."
"It's ok. I'll take her. Gotta go fill up the truck" the man beside me say
"Well there you go. Don't be a stranger YN"
"I won't. Thank you again"
"If I'm giving you a lift I guess you best know who I am. Matt Casey, Lieutenant"
"It's good to meet you Matt. I'm YN. Trauma surgeon"
"Ahhh your YN. Severide was on about you when squad went out that day" Matt helps me into the truck. I take in a deep breath when he closes it the door. I'm ok, everything's ok. I tell myself. Matt opens the door his side and gets in
"You ok? You look pale"
"Yeah. Just since the accident I've struggled with cars and moving vehicles"
"You'll be ok in here. Don't worry" I give Matt a small smile, his presence seams to calm me for some reason
"So where shall I drop you off?"
"At Med"
"Is everything ok?"
"Oh errm yeah. It's with Dr Charles about the errrr the anxiety with driving"
"I see. Well if you ever need a lift anywhere you can call me"
"I don't have your number"
"Yet" Matt gives me a wide smile which makes me laugh
"Isn't it frowned upon to flirt with the people you save?"
"I didn't save you. Severide did"
"Fair enough"
Before I know it I'm outside of Med
"Here" Matt grabs a piece of paper and pen and scribbles something onto it "my number. Phone me if you want picking up"
"Thank you. Seriously thank you" I take his number making a mental note to add it into my phone later. I leave the truck and wave him goodbye before heading into Med for my appointment.
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