#saying that it is depressing and aggravating is an understatement

[cicissketchbook]

Y’all wanna read my Apritello story?

So sometimes when my artistic drive is down, the writing bug will come bite me. I’ve been working on an Apritello story for awhile that currently has three chapters that are up on my Patreon. Eventually I’ll post it publicly, but I want my patrons to have early access. Anyway here’s an excerpt from the first chapter.

It’s kind of angsty.

The summary is, April invites Donnie to join her for a long weekend at the farmhouse, which sounds romantic until you consider that she’s been plagued with visions of his accidental death and is desperate to stop it from happening.

To say there was tension in the air was a drastic understatement. Truthfully, things had been tense for a while. Blame it on cabin fever, or perhaps they were outgrowing their sewer lair, but the brothers had been quick to jump down each other’s throats. 

Leo was especially on edge, and not unlike how it had been since they were kids, his mood had set the tone for everyone else. One thing that differed from childhood though, was that he had been butting heads with Donnie, while Raph remained a mostly neutral third party. 

There was the knowledge that they were getting older and they all had desires to get out there and live their own lives, and then the realization that doing so wasn’t really possible for them in the world they lived in. They wanted what any young adults would want, but they were mutants.  The world still saw them as freaks. They couldn’t lead normal lives the way they wanted to. They knew this, they had known this all their lives. They had all been on the same page about it. They realized that living their lives in the sewer, at least most of it, was probably in the cards. April had always contested this idea, believing that the world would accept them in time. It’s not like people didn’t know mutants existed, but the turtles weren’t willing to take the risk. It’s not like they couldn’t go out and do things like they always had, but leaving the nest for good just wasn’t feasible. And they were content with this. The sewer was all they’d ever known. They’d always been together and they were happy to always be together. 

But like all families, arguments were inevitable. Familiarity breeds contempt, after all. And they were accustom to bickering. But… it was different now. Leo seemed ready to explode at the drop of a pen, Raph never seemed to be able to find enough alone time, Donnie felt like he brought more to the table than the other three combined, and Mikey… sweet Mikey was such an incurable optimist that he sought to find the positive in every situation, but they knew he did this to mask his depression.  

If asked what they were arguing about today, the simple answer would be that they were all just getting on each other’s nerves. Donnie couldn’t even remember how the argument started because they fought about trivial things so frequently, but he remembered the thing that Leo said that set him off.

“God, why is it so hard for you to just do your part? Why do we have to pick up your slack?”

Donnie was silent for a moment, almost unsure he’d heard correctly. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me, you never fucking help out with anything!” Leo’s tone implied that there was something else he was upset about that he wasn’t speaking of. 

Donnie, by his best effort, kept his voice calm and composed. “I’m sorry, are you referring to three days ago when I didn’t help clean up the disaster in the kitchen because I was literally putting the microwave back together? Or perhaps last week when you left a mess for me to clean up that you all made while I wasn’t even here? And then you got mad when I didn’t?”

Leo seemed to get more aggravated at the mention of Donnie not being there, but continued on. “C’mon man, there are four of us that live here, it’s really not asking too much for everyone to help clean up around here.” 

“Dude, I clean up after myself more than anyone. The difference is, when I make a mess, it’s in my lab rather than communal space and-“

“Oh, right, I forgot. The huge space you have that’s your’s. That none of us have.” Leo turned to their other brothers who sat near by. “Hey Raph, other than your tiny bedroom, do you have your own creative space that you can do whatever you want in? Mikey, how about you?”

Raph hadn’t spoken, but seemed invested in the exchange his brothers were having. It was impossible to tell who’s side he was on. Before Mikey could speak, Raph stopped him and said firmly, “Leave us out of this, man.”

“So now your mad at me… because of my lab?”

Leo paused, not making eye contact, before he huffed. “No.” He admitted quietly.

Normally, Donnie was used to these arguments making little or no sense, but Leo seemed genuinely angry and he couldn’t understand why. 

“Bro, what is up?” He demanded. “Why are you actually so upset?”

“I just…” Leo started. Donnie could tell there was something he didn’t want to say. Leo crossed his arms and turned away from his brother. “I just want to know… where your priorities are.”

“My priorities?” Donnie was trying not to lose his patience. He had no idea where this was coming from nor where it was going. Which meant one of two things. Either there was something his brother wasn’t telling him, or this was in fact going no where. Like, this had started out a fight about cleaning duties, and now he’s talking about priorities. If Leo did have a point, he wanted him to hurry up and make it because this argument seemed like a waste of time.

“It just…” Leo blew another huff through his nose. “It just seems like… you are… distancing yourself from us, Donnie.”

This statement completely threw Don for a loop. He hadn’t expected that at all. “What in the world are you talking about?” He asked, truly bewildered by the turn in conversation. “Because I don’t want to clean up messes that aren’t mine? Like what the hell-?”

“No, obviously it’s not that. It’s alot of things.” Leo spoke quieter now, not as impassioned. 

“Well, I would love to know what those things are, because I am completely lost here.”

“You never want to hang out with us anymore, and when you do, you act like you’d rather be doing anything else-“

Donnie cut him off with a humorless chuckle. “We’re brothers, we all get on each other’s nerves.” 

“And I get that, but we do all still live together and we all need to contribute to the household chores, and you’ve just been acting like you are so far above doing any type of housework that doesn’t directly effect you.”

“Well, excuse me Leo, sorry if when it rains and the power get knocked out and I have to go topside by myself in the cold pouring rain to fix the power line, I don’t also want to have to mop up the leak in the kitchen when none of you did anything to help!”

“Okay, you keep bring up specific instances, but I’m talking about in general-“

“No, you’re talking alot of nonsense is what you’re doing!” Donnie’s lack of patience was starting to show. “First you’re mad that you think I don’t clean enough, then you’re mad that I have a lab and you don’t? Then you say I’m distancing myself from you all…?” Donnie stood and made a move like he was going to walk away. “If you have something to say, Leo, you better just say it because this whole conversation seems like a waste of time to me. It’s late and I’m tired, so make your point, or I’m going to bed.”

“Are you distancing yourself from us because of April?”

Donnie had already started walking away, as he didn’t expect Leo to actually have a point, so he was halted to a standstill at his words. “What does she have to do with anything?”

Leo looked away again, like he didn’t actually want to have this conversation. After a moment, he sighed and continued without making eye contact. “It just seems like… I mean… I thought we were all on the same page here. We’ve had this discussion, a long time ago. We aren’t…. Human. We’re getting older and it makes sense that we’d want to start living our own lives, but… we can’t. Not really. The world doesn’t accept us, so staying down here is just how it has to be. I thought we had agreed on that. That no matter what the world thought of us, no matter that we can’t lead normal lives, at least we all had each other. But… now it seems like you have other plans, Donnie.”

He finally looked at his brother and Donnie could see the emotions in his eyes. Nothing of what he said had been new information, of course. Donnie knew, painfully well, that the world saw them as freaks and being “normal” was not a luxury they’d ever be able to have. Alot of their friends were at the point where they were starting to branch off, which didn’t help. Karai and Shinigami were currently back in Japan. It was just a visit, but the kind of visit that lasted for a month or two. Casey had gotten a hockey scholarship for a different school than the one April attended. He was trying to go pro, so he poured all his time and attention into practicing. He still came around, but not like he used to. Mona Lisa had left Earth awhile ago, also with promise to return, but they hadn’t heard from her in a few weeks. They were sure it was just a new mission she had, but that didn’t make Raph feel any better. April was the only one who still came around all the time. With most of their enemies gone, everyone was moving on and it felt like the world didn’t need them anymore. 

The pain in Leo’s voice would’ve normal made Donnie want to hug him, but it was the accusation that he couldn’t get over.

“Leo…” He gestured non threateningly with his hands. “Why are you acting like I’m not literally living down here in the sewers right along with you? And I still don’t see what April has to do with anything-” 

“Okay, I’m going to jump in here.” Raph said unexpectedly. “Look, Dude, I know we don’t… we don’t say it enough but… we would be up schitts creek without a paddle without you.” He crossed the room to give Leo a lighthearted punch in the arm. “Wouldn’t we, Leo?”

“…Yeah.”

“So because of that, the idea of you leaving is…. It’s scary.” Raph admitted. He was going to say something else, but Donnie interrupted.

“I’m not going anywhere! What in the actually hell are you guys talking about?!”

Leo rolled his eyes, apparently getting annoyed again. “Don, can we please stop pretending like you’re not going to marry April and then move in with her?”

Donnie froze. To say they touched a nerve was an understatement. April was his best friend, but truthfully, it was very painful to be her friend sometimes. His feelings for her were still just as intense as ever, but for different reason now. In his youth, he’d maintained a kind of innocent hopefulness that they would someday be together, and he never even really thought of the details of how. He knew, even back then, that it wasn’t that simple and when he really thought about it, nothing about it made sense. Which is why he didn’t think about it. Now though, after some soul searching and dropping into a deep depression which he was starting to get better from, he’d resigned himself to the reality that she would never be with him. He’d accepted it, and told himself that it was enough to just be her friend. But the truth was, that pain never went away.  They had such a close friendship, they had developed such a level of comfort with each other, but he knew it would never be enough. The idea of never seeing her again was unbearable, but to be so close to her, knowing that it was as close as he would ever get… it was torture. He didn’t care though, he just couldn’t let her go.

What really hurt was when she would talk about the next stage in her life. She was in school now, but with her grades and what she was studying, she could go anywhere. She wanted to travel, she spoke of it often. She never made any committal remarks about moving away, other than when she talked about the farmhouse and saying how expensive it is to live in the city. Her dad had signed the property over to her for tax reasons, and she would’ve inherited it anyway. She wanted to renovate it.

He was only vaguely aware that Raph and Leo were still talking.

“It’s not like we’re mad at you for finding love, that’s not it at all!” Raph was saying, obviously more concerned than Leo about ruffling his brother’s feathers. “It’s just, we need to be realistic about what would happen if you weren’t here.”

“Yeah, and the reality is, frankly, I think we all feel left behind by our friends, but we didn’t think  our clan would be breaking up as well!” Leo threw his hands up, finally letting his true feelings out. “I mean, all we have is each other, we’re the last of the Hamato clan! I can’t let this clan die, I just can’t.”

“Why do you guys feel the need to do that?” 

They stopped, taken aback by how low and serious Donnie’s voice was. He was done barking, he looked ready to bite. 

“Do what?”

Donnie’s chest felt tight and he had to taken in a sharp breath through his nose to keep his cool. “Why do you guys feel the need to not only remind me of my unrequited feelings for my… our  best friend… but now, you’re holding it against me?”

Raph looked concerned at first, but then sighed. “Donnie, c’mon, don’t act like you wouldn’t jump at the opportunity to get out of here. April isn’t going to stay in New York forever.” 

The statement, while probably true, hurt to hear. “What does that have to do with me?” He said, quieter this time. “I can’t help what April does.”  

“Dude, she is literally planning her future with you in it. Have you not noticed that?” Leo nearly screamed. “You have the opportunity to get out of here and do something with your life, and we’ll be-“

“No she’s not!” Donnie shouted back. “Are you guys smoking crack or something? Don’t say that shit to me! April doesn’t…” He paused, his words getting caught in his throat. “April doesn’t want me. I thought we’d been over this.”

Mikey, who hadn’t yet spoke, immediately picked up on how much pain Donnie was in. “Hey guys, let’s just drop it, yeah?”

Leo pressed on as if his youngest brother hadn’t spoken. “Maybe she didn’t five years ago, but she sure as shit does now.” He didn’t seem bothered by Donnie visible cringe. “I mean, dude, you’ve spent the night, alone at her house.”

“So has Mikey. And Raph once, I think.” Donnie said quietly, and Raph nodded in confirmation. “And she’s spent the night here a billion times, that doesn’t mean anything.”

“Mikey and Raph didn’t sleep in her bed.” Leo said accusingly. 

“I did.”  

They all paused and turned to the youngest brother. Raph spoke. “You did?”

“Every time I go over there, I sleep in her bed.” Mikey said matter-o-factly. “Whenever… whenever I’m sad, she let’s me come over and… she’ll listen. She doesn’t try to offer solutions, she doesn’t try and tell me things to make me feel better, she just… listens. And that’s what helps me the most. Then we watch funny videos.”

None of them commented at first. They all knew Mikey struggled with depression, but he rarely, if ever, talked about it. They all had told him at some point that they were there if he needed to talk, but he never came to any of them. One might of thought that hearing that his brother shared a bed with April might make Donnie jealous, but quite the opposite, it made him very happy and appreciative to hear about it. It made sense that Mikey would be more comfortable talking to April than to any of them, and to know that she had been there for him was comforting. Donnie wanted that for his brother. 

“See?” He said finally, more to Leo than anyone else. “April… she’s there for all of us. She cares about all of us… I’m not special.”

“Donnie, don’t say that.” Mikey offered and rose from his seat to place a hand on his brother’s shoulder. Donnie placed his own hand over Mikey’s and squeezed it, staring at the floor.  “She cares about you the most. More than you know.”

“Mikey, please, please don’t.” He said through his teeth. “I can’t… I can’t even believe we’re having this conversation right now. You know how long it took me to accept the fact that I was kidding myself by thinking there could ever be something between us? Of course you guys know, which is why it is so baffling to me that you feel the need to do this.” 

“So if April wanted you to move away with her, you wouldn’t do it?” 

Raph punched Leo in the arm again. It was a strange thing, to see Raph scold Leo for being insensitive. Donnie had had enough though.

“I’m out of here.” He turned on his heel and heading towards the turnstiles. 

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

Yes, it’s NSFW, of course it is.

#TMNT 2012 #apritello #donatello #leonardo #raphael #michelangelo #mikey #raph #leo #donnie #apriltello #tmnt #fanfiction

[sleephyjhs]

forget-me-not | pjm

pairing: jimin x original character

genre: angst, ex-lovers AU

summary: breaking his heart the first time around ripped you to shreds, having to do it for the second time was close enough to unbearable. out of everybody he could’ve remembered, it just had to be you.

wc: 2.3k

song rec: miss missing you - fall out boy

m.list

tw: mentions of accidents, hospital setting, amnesia

© by sleepyjhs 2020. all rights reserved

“No, he only wants you. He’s got you on the brain.” The phonecall that kickstarted your Sunday morning was nothing short of overwhelming. Even your sounding alarm would have been a more welcoming alert to waken to, “You have to come and see him.”

Exhaling down the phone, you raked your fingers through your knotted bed hair and sank back into your warmed pillows, “Why do you need me? We haven’t spoken in months, it’s just unnecessary.”

His name lived constantly in your mind; it hadn’t left since the night he did. The time that had passed between the breakup and that Sunday morning was time you could’ve spent wondering about something other than what you did so wrong to come back to his tapes boxes and stuffed suitcases. Reuniting with Jimin after so long was a can of worms you were unprepared to pry open.

“Haewon, he doesn’t know who the fuck any of us are. Do you really think if he knew who we were he’d be asking for you?” It was relieving to see that time hadn’t shrunk his ego. Initially, there were many things you came to miss about Jimin but his friendship group could never have been one of them. With conceit as strong as theirs, their related influence on Jimin was never noticeable; that much you appreciated.

Still, the draining compulsion to punch them returned to you as strong as ever, “What ward is he in?”

“R6, south wing. Hurry up, the nurses can’t get anything out of him, you’re the only hope we’ve got.” As Jimin’s friend hung up the phone, remains of guilt and anger drowned you. Everything that you’d thought you’d managed to suppress was now swallowing you whole; the guilt of knowing you did something to make him up and leave, and the anger of never knowing what it could’ve been.

The process of making yourself look somewhat presentable took even more effort than usual; the unusual circumstances you’d awoken into needed to render before you could even begin to believe what had happened. Considering the rush of a city in the early morning, you skipped the makeup routine and accepted the mean comments that were bound to be hurled at you. Last night’s jeans and tee would have to do; it wasn’t as though you had anyone to impress anyway.

Even the radio was unable to draw your thoughts away from Jimin. Receiving a call from Jimin’s best friend could only mean trouble, and you wanted none of the mess that had been created overnight. It had been mere weeks since you gave your peace on the end of your relationship, yet here you were, willingly ripping open the stitches that now bound your heart together.

Maybe you appeared strange in the elevator - flushing all shades of pink - but you couldn’t seem to help it. Not only was your situation unprecedented, but you had no idea what sight you’d be greeted with. Jimin’s friend wouldn’t let up how bad the accident was, and despite the pain he’d given you, never could you wish for him to receive it back.

R6, south wing; it was further away than you’d remembered. It was always strikingly obvious that you’d wandered away from the commotion of a hospital when the bustling visitors exchanged with surgeons and nurses, coated in their same minty scrubs. The lack of casual clothing in the corridors haunted you; it only seemed as though you were edging further from civilisation with each step.

Buzzing the security intercom increased the building pressure in your lungs. As you cleansed your hands with provided gel, any predictions of what might be waiting for you behind the doors suddenly evacuated. Although he may have, your attachment to Jimin has never truly abandoned you; once upon a time, he was your best friend.

Ambulating down the sapphire linoleum, you counted the enclosures of hospital beds. Fourth from the right was your intended destination. One; empty. The landscape of empty beds inside was almost as depressing as a full room. Two; full. Silence fell upon 4 conscious patients who all stared into the same space. Three; weeping family. Expecting anything less from a trauma unit would have been foolish even for you, but the extremes of human emotion were perhaps all too much for a Sunday morning.

And then, you came to four. Through the moderately open shutters, you stole the first glimpse of Jimin you’d had in months. Your view was blocked by his crowded friends; the worst of it was approaching.

“Excuse me?” A voice from behind introduced. Startled, you turned to meet conversation, not expecting to be greeted by a nurse, “Are you Ms. Haewon?”

You nodded politely, remaining unsure what to expect. The nurse returned her eyes to the clipboard she cradled and shrewdly, you copied, “Thank you for coming at such short notice, you seem to be the only person he can name.”

“What happened? To him, I mean.”

“A car accident. He’s lucky to say the least. I’m glad I caught you before you entered.” Her abrupt statements couldn’t calm your ever-trembling hands; coming here was surely a mistake, ”I’m sure you’ve gathered that what you’re about to walk into isn’t going to be easy. Whatever he says to you is his own version of reality, no matter how far from the truth it really is. I’d like to advise you against correcting him for the time being, it’s better for the recovery process if he is allowed time to adjust.”

You flattened your lips, finally coming to realise how serious Jimin’s accident actually had been. Being left to only remember your time together must’ve been more pain than he knew, but he didn’t.

After thanking the nurse, you brushed your hands on your jeans to dry the accumulated sweat on your palms and exhaled breath you didn’t know you were holding. Not a single word of preparation scrolled through your mind as you turned the corner into the room.

All eyes fell upon you, including Jimin’s. Arrangements of purple and mouldy yellow bloomed from his brow to jaw, following a delicate manoeuvre down his cheek. Clear tubes were strung from the back of his hand to several bags of various liquids. To say the resemblance to a marionette doll was uncanny would have been an understatement, “Haewon!”

Conjuring the equal amount of enthusiasm to see Jimin pointlessly unachievable. Even seeing your worst enemy in such a bad state wouldn’t have changed the torment struggling inside your mind.

Softening your eyes, you fixed upon his sable eyes and released a gentle smile, “Hi, Jimin.”

The simple greeting was all you could muster. It was pathetic, but it would have to do. By the window, one of Jimin’s friends pulled faces to his own reflection. Usually distracted by small aggravations, all of your attention remained devoted to Jimin. You were here for him, no one else.

“I managed to end up in hospital. Do you know why?” The tails of his eyebrows sunk into his temples. Dancing around topics in fear of confusing him more was risky. Following his own lead in conversation was the only way to avoid slipping up; all you could hope is that what you were doing was the best for him.

The rolling eyes of his cornered friend enraged you. Assuming he would have any feelings of compassion was ridiculous, “I know.” You places your bag gently on the floor and perched on one of the plastic meeting chairs beside the bed, “Do you know why..?”

Before your question had finished, the monotonous shaking of his head swung against his pillow, “There’s strange people here, they won’t go away.”

At the sound of his words, Jimin’s friend turned away from the window to watch his injured friend. You hated him with your whole being, but watching him be shut out by Jimin was unfair. Of course, there was nothing that could be helped, but an overhanging guilt began to overshadow you, “They’re here to help you, Jimin. You were in a car accident, and you can’t get better by yourself. They’ll help you as much as they can.”

Soft smiles were all you could offer for comfort. Embracing him in any kind of way was sure enough to damage him further. Porcelain would have appeared stronger than Jimin; another crack in his dainty exterior guaranteed him to shatter.

Fiddling with your fingernails allowed you to witness Jimin’s hand creep down the bed. The transparent tubes stretched to follow his roaming digits; his palm blossomed and tiny cuts, most likely made by broken glass, scattered over his calluses. Holding his hand was not a task you had signed up for, but then, Jimin never asked to remember you.

Slipping your hand against Jimin’s was strange to say the least. His familiar warmth was once soothing, now it was more like an icy slate. Whatever you could do to help him recover, you would; you’d assured yourself that much.

“Am I going to be alright?” Jimin whimpered, caressing your thumb with his. Immense pity was simply inevitable. How badly damaged was he? So much so, Jimin wasn’t sure if he was even going to make it.

“Of course you are.” You resumed your amiable smile, knowing very well you may have just lied to him. Considering the state you found him in, surely it wasn’t certain?

As Jimin groaned while he hesitantly adjusted himself, the same nurse from earlier returned to the room. She pushed a small cart equipped with medical appliances, bandages and capsules of all different colours, “I need to change Jimin’s drips. For sanitary reasons, you both need to wait outside.”

Your eyes met with those of Jimin’s friend, and you led the walk outside of the room. The door closed behind you, and the awkward silence began. Even when your relationship with Jimin was active, you’d never found much in comin with his friends. In fact, the more you came to understand Jimin, you couldn’t understand what attracted him to them either.

Before you’d gotten the chance, the man sat in the only seat outside of the room. Chivalry was no expectation when it came to Jimin’s acquaintances. As expected, nothing much had changed.

Even when deep in silence, you couldn’t bring yourself to dawdle on your phone. Nail-biting was the only appropriate way to pass time as well as take out your pent up anxieties. He looked up from behind his screen, and thrusted it deep into his jacket pocket, eyeing you from head to toe with a grimaced face. You shared his sentiments.

“It’s better he forgets you. You never bother with him, what an unfortunate coincidence he only remembers you.” His breath exalted ignorance. You were here for Jimin, not to argue over the past.

But still, it was too much bait to simply avoid, “What do you mean I never bother with him? Conversations work two ways; if he wanted me to check up on him, he’d check up on me too.”

“He’s been a mess since you stopped dating. You were the best thing that ever happened to him.”

His confession was perhaps the most sincerity you thought possible to get out of him, yet that wouldn’t fog your version of events, “That’s his own fault. I never wanted us to end.”

He scoffed, smirking as he shook his head, “There’s no compassion with you, is there?”

“Your best friend could have died, and you’re still taking jabs at me. I didn’t have to come but I did. Instead of being concerned for Jimin’s wellbeing, I reckon you asked me here just to make your points.” His sly smirk soon faded into his flushing cheeks.

Perhaps it was true that if he knew any better, Jimin wouldn’t want you there. But he didn’t know any better, at least not now. How you were supposed to help, you were unsure of. Were you even prepared to be present when he realised? Realising your beloved was no longer yours must hurt more for the second time, there could be no doubt about it.

“Visit hours are over in five minutes. Go, and don’t come back. At least for a while. At least give him a chance to remember someone other than you. I only asked you here to lessen the blow anyway.”

For someone who should no longer concern you, the motion of avoiding Jimin was strangely painful. He was vulnerable, anybody could see that. Abandoning him as the only person he could openly recognise felt immoral, disgusting almost. But what authority did you have?

The nurse soon allowed you back into the room for the final goodbye before the cue to leave. Jimin beamed as you timidly approached the plastic chair beside him. It must’ve stung him to smile with such cheer. It was a lie. His happiness was a lie. Soon, he’d know the truth.

“I’m going to have to leave soon. I’m sorry I can’t stay longer.” Although your romance wasn’t, your remorse was real. The pity you empathised from being stuck with his ignorant friend was also very much real.

“You’ll come back for me, right?”

So much you were yet to decide. A sleepless night dwelling upon the events of the day was due, “Of course I will.”

With all your endurance, you avoided the eyes of his lingering friend. He was better off invisible for now, “You promise to keep well, Jimin. We’ll get through this together.”

Sending Jimin your last smile of the day, he reflected your sentiments and watched you approached the door, “Haewon?” You turned around with a raised eyebrow, “I love you.”

And there it was. The dreaded three words that held no meaning to you, at least not from him. Did they even hold any meaning to him? You were the only person he recognised; if there was only one person you knew, you’d feel compelled to live them at some point.

“I know you do.”

#btswritingcafe #heartsforbts #bts #park jimin #jimin #bts jimin #bangtan #bts reactions #bts imagines #bts one shot #bts drabble #bts headcanon #bts mtl #bts reaction #bts imagine #jimin x you #jimin angst #jimin x oc #jimin x reader #jimin x y/n #park jimin x oc

[summerstardust]

It Will Be Okay

Dhawan!Doctor x Reader 

Summary: After you receive heartbreaking news, The Doctor tries to cheer you up. Unsuccessfully at first.

Warnings: breakup, depression, and mentions of suicide/self harm --- please don’t read this if those subjects are triggering

Word Count: 3462

A/N: I selfishly wrote this for myself. I just need this because of some personal things going on in my life at the moment. But, I hope that you all enjoy it!

You hadn’t known The Doctor for that long. Mid-March was when you met. You were strolling around an art museum that you hadn’t been to yet. You were on break for spring term and wanted to relax and get out of the house, taking a break from studying and catching up on university courses. Of course, work still needed to be done, so your trip to the museum, although relaxing, also involved finding an example of Greek myth depicted within a piece of artwork or an artifact. Though interesting in topic, you would much rather want to be around the museum with carefree joy instead of obtaining the information for that particular assignment. 

You decided to go through the museum chronologically. You did not care about the order of history when going to museums in previous journeys, you always went to your favourite era first, and also last if there was enough time available in the day, before retreating to the little shop by the entrance for a souvenir. However, you allowed the mandatory information taking for you course to reorganize your preferred schedule, completing your schoolwork as soon as possible and rushing off to the abstract artists of Europe section of the museum.

You stopped abruptly, with an audible gasp, in the middle of your tour when you ventured upon a painting by Vincent Van Gogh. You were unaware of this museum holding one in their collection. You sat down on a bench in front of the painting and just stared at it for a long time, occasionally taking some pictures to blend in with all of the other millennials and zoomers on their phone, but promptly returned to gawking at the unique brush strokes and style of your favourite painter.

“He’s really quite amazing, isn’t he?” The sudden voice behind you made you jump out of your state of calm. The man behind you quickly apologized for his intrusion and for scaring you, he explained, “I only wanted to talk to you. You are the only person here actually appreciating the art.” You questioned if he worked here, but he promptly, and quite wittedly, retorted, “If I worked here, I don’t think I would care much for art. Too monotonous and everyday, boring ol’ rat race, the art would soon embody, not the life and soul it actually captures.” 

To say he was strange was an understatement. He wore a long purple coat that matched his visible socks, knitted tie and even the argiles on his sweater vest. His smile was sweet, but cocky, like he knew that you were intrigued, but his eyes shone bright with warmth and curiosity, pupils, ever so slightly, dilated. Proving that he, too, was probably more intrigued than he should be by the mannerisms of a stranger.

One of the hands that was clasped behind his back moved swiftly out before you in a gesture of introduction. Accompanied with this subtle, yet dramatic, movement was the strange man in purple saying, “Hello! I’m The Doctor!” You tentatively accepted his hand, joking about how he does actually work here at the museum. He denied your statement, but smiled, eyeing you with big hopeful eyes. You didn’t understand why he was eyeing you until he glanced down at your still interlocked hands, then you remembered how you hadn’t introduced yourself yet.

“Y/N,” you practically shouted, growing annoyed with yourself, and continuing softer, “My name is Y/N Y/S.” 

“Y/N Y/S, what a lovely name! Absolutely marvelous!” You questioned if it was, you never thought your name to be that spectacular.

“Of course your name is marvelous! You are the one possessing that name, and you are marvelous, therefore, your name is also marvelous!” You smiled, but shook your head before looking away from him.

“I’m afraid that you must be mistaking me for someone else, I’m just a normal, everyday, boring human. Nothing marvelous about me.” You spoke with a happy-go-lucky tone, but your words were laced with sadness and self depreciation.

“I think everything about you is marvelous.” His eyes weren't lying and his smile was reassuring, but you could not understand his confidence.

“You’ve only just met me a few minutes ago, how could you possibly know anything about me? And how could anything you have found out about me result in you calling me marvelous, it just doesn’t add up, stranger.”

“Doctor. I’m The Doctor, not The Stranger, they're a completely different Timelord. And, I’ve discovered the most important thing about you.”

“Which is?” You tried to follow his ramble, but were unsuccessful.

“You study and empathize with the smallest things, understanding that they all pile up and congoine into one even bigger thing.”

“How do you figure that?” you continued to question, slightly scared that this stranger could understand your personality so well in such little time.

“Because, you have been staring at this one painting for almost half an hour, and the more you look at it, the more you are brought to tears by the depth of emotion conveyed in the work. You have been doing this, while every other person has been hastily moving from one painting to another, snapping pictures and moving on, like checking items off of a grocery list.” He looked around the room of meandering humans, wringing his hands, disgusted by their lack of want for discovery, but excited by the palpable tension of excitement he could feel within you. He could feel it, you were like him, a person wanting to run away and discover something new. “You, you are observant! I bet! I bet that if something were to change about this scenario in front of you, you would notice, where the other people here wouldn’t even bat an eye.”

“And if I do notice that change? What happens then?” 

“I’ll give you the opportunity to get away from all of this monotony. Human life is boring, not you.” You stared at him for a while, sceptical, but intrigued. You eventually said that you’ll bite and play his game. He immediately moved to cover your eyes with one hand, and gave an exhilarated “You ready?” You nodded and heard the man’s fingers snap before he removed the hand covering your eyes. You looked at him as if he was insane, but he nodded his head in the direction of the rest of the room, encouraging you to continue the game 

You promised to partake in. You rolled your eyes as you scanned the room, expecting no changes, but your face fell into disbelief when you saw a large blue police box sitting near one of the abstract sculptures in the center of the room. With your mouth agape, you watched as bystanders took in the new centerpiece, blissfully unaware of its magical appearance. You eventually moved forward to it, after the man nudged your shoulder, indicating that it was okay and this was not a hoax. You moved around it, circling it, every once in a while seeing the stranger's whimsical and curious eyes gadgeing your reaction.you were too afraid to touch it, scared that this was a new art piece and you would be sent to jail or would have to pay a fine for damaging the artwork. 

“Of she’s definitely a work of art, but she’s not a part of the museum. It's perfectly fine if you touch her.” For a moment, you wondered if he could read your mind, but you decided that that was impossible. To prove that he wasn’t lying, he leant up against the blue box, no one around reacting. You slowly brought your hand up to where it was level with the sign on the door that said “Pull to Open.” When you eventually touched the sign, the box let out a light hum, like the one a person would make if they had just eaten something delicious. You jumped back, and looked to the stranger to see if he heard the noise, but he only looked amused, with a sweet toothy grin reaching his eyes and a low chuckle falling from his lips. 

“Push it open.” He stated, regaining his composure over the situation. 

“But the sign says pull.” Another hum, more aggravated this time, emerged from the box. The man seemed to glare at the box, whispering “not now” in a tone he thought you couldn’t hear. When he noticed you staring, he readjusted his sweater vest and couched in awkwardness, but assured you that it was alright and that you should open the door. You did as he said, the box humming welcomingly again when you touched the door handle and pushed the door forward, despite the writing on the sign. The room was dark, pitch black as you stood in the doorway. The man behind you pushed you forward, gracefully and gently, but it still caught you off guard. You let out a string of yells and curses as the man closed the door behind the pair of you, seemingly locking you in.

“What do you think you are doing?! You can’t just lock me in here.” Your yelling was unanswered and eventually silenced by the light flicking on, showing a room much larger than the small box could have contained. What seemed to be a control panel took up the center of the room, large, glowing, purple, crystalline structures branching off of it and illuminating the room. There were a couple of cushioned chairs and sofas strewn about the upper deck around the console, and metal stairs lead up to a circular veranda level, completely covered in bookshelves and ladders to reach the tallest of shelves.

The stranger was smirking down at you, now stood by the console, leaning on it with his hip, his arms crossed in front of him.“This is the TARDIS.” he spoke, interrupting your curious looks around the place.”It stands for Time And Relative Dimensions In Space. And I want you to travel with me. I told you I’d offer you a getaway.” His smirk grew with the last sentence, showing how proud he was of himself, and rightfully so, his prize for winning his little game was very impressive.

You had been traveling with The Doctor ever since, you couldn’t say no to his offer of traveling the universe, but roughly five months was not enough time to know an alien who lost track of how old they were. Something happened around late June, but you never told The Doctor. He found you crying in the TARDIS kitchen alone early one morning, phone still clasped in your hand. He wondered if you had been talking to someone and that’s why you were crying. If that was what was happening, he hated whoever they were for doing this to you. When you saw him standing in the doorway, you squeaked in fear, but jumped up and ran to him, hugging him very tightly. The two of you had only ever shared brief victory hugs before, nothing like this. But just as The Doctor started to enjoy the breathtakingly tight hug you were giving him, you ran off to your room, slamming and locking the door behind you. 

The Doctor had tried and failed to talk to you for a month. You would emerge from your room to eat, rarely, and to make cups of tea, almost always in the morning when you used to be asleep. But you never talked, waved, or even smiled at The Doctor anymore.

Eventually, he had convinced you to go on an adventure with him, thanks to the TARDIS helping him and preventing you from returning to your room on an excursion to the kitchen.  The Doctor knew, though, that you were not enjoying anything you were seeing, the curiosity and wonder had drained from your eyes. 

He took you to a beach where the waves would sound like a different song to whoever hears them, but you didn’t even change into a swimsuit. He took you to a mountainous relaxation resort where the staff would ski down the ranges singing show tunes and performing acrobatic routines, you didn’t even crack a smile. He even took you to a planet where it was only ever night time, he pointed out the stars and planets to you and told you stories of his past, but you would only hum noncommitedly. He thought that his openness would draw something, in turn, out of you.

The last stop was the largest multidimensional museum in existence, he thought, surly, this would work. Reminding you of the day you met him had to bring you back to your old self. So, The Doctor, ignoring your protests, dragged you through the museum, running past history, until you stopped in front of a Vincent Van Gogh painting, the same one you were looking at the museum when The Doctor first saw you. He was hopeful that this would brighten your mood, that he would look over and see you smiling and curious, but he saw no such thing. The Doctor saw the bland, emotionless face you were trying to wear confidently, as you had at every other venue, but he also saw the tears pooling in your eyes and the slight quiver of your lips. That was new. What hurt the most was how he saw how desperately you wanted to keep your facade in place, how desperately you didn’t want him to see how hurt you were. He wondered if he had done something wrong, something to cause this disconnect? 

The Doctor took you back to the TARDIS when you asked to leave the museum, his head hanging low between his shoulders. He did not wish to do it, but because you did not seem to be enjoying yourself, The Doctor was prepared to let you go. He opened the door for you and followed you into the TARDIS, trodding up to the console. He was about to offer to take you home, but you were already gone. The Doctor sighed, about to set the quardianted anyway, until the TARDIS beeped frantically, informing him to go to your room immediately.

The door to your room was slightly ajar, probably because of the TARDIS, just enough for The Doctor to see into your bedroom. You were pacing, holding a kitchen knife in one hand and beating your head repeatedly. Then you started screaming, “It was a simple adventure, Y/N, but you messed it up. You are always messing things up. The Doctor just wanted to cheer you up, and you couldn’t even fake it for a day! Maybe this is why no one loves you, Y/N. You can’t just let things go and celebrate what is actually before you! You saw The Doctor’s face, and you broke his hearts! Why can’t you just be happy, Y’N?! Why do you have to ruin everything that crosses your path! Everything would be easier and everyone would be happier if you didn’t exist!” You swung both of your fists down in rage, cutting the air. 

Behind you, The Doctor burst into your room, screaming a loud ‘no!’ You were too shocked to actually process anything, he clearly heard every word you said, and saw the knife in your hands. There was no going back from this. For all you knew, he was going to kick you out because of how you were behaving. He asked for the knife, calmly but sternly, his brown eyes growing dark in concern. You did as he said and moved to your bed, curling into a ball under your covers, trying to ignore The Doctor’s powerful eyes. He followed you , however, hugging you from behind, placing soft kisses on the side of your face and neck as you began to cry. The Doctor hushed your tears and dried your eyes as best he could from his position.  Eventually you stopped crying, curling into him further as The Doctor rested his head in the crook of your neck. After calming your breath, you spoke up, breaking the silence.

“My boyfriend broke up with me. That’s who I was on the phone with that night when you saw me crying.” The Doctor moved his head slightly to look at you, he didn’t know that you had a boyfriend. But this revelation colored that situation differently for him. His suspicions were correct, but he did not wish them to be. He hated how someone so close to you would hurt you like this.

“He broke up with you over the phone?” His tone was dangerous, you were almost afraid to answer, worried for how he would react.

“Yes,” you spoke tentatively. The Doctor’s arms tightened around you protectively, so you tried to explain the situation. “He said that he didn’t want to, and that he wished he could have done it in person but he was too busy.” This didn’t raise his opinion of your ex.

“Is there any way that the two of you could work it out?” He hoped that there wasn’t, from the very little he heard of this person, and seeing how you reacted to the breakup, The Doctor thought that you would be safer away from him.

“No, he said that his decision was final.” There was a long pause before The Doctor spoke again, trying to suppress his excitement over the fact that this negative person would be out of your life.

“What were you going to do with the knife?” He almost forgot about the knife.

“I don’t know, I would’ve probably hurt myself. I don’t even remember grabbing the thing. I think that I was just overwhelmed with emotions and I didn’t feel like I had any more options.”

“Have you hurt yourself before?” HIs tone was softer, hoping that you would feel more open in discussing a topic this sensitive.

“Not in over a year. I’ve had bouts like this every so often, but this one felt worse. I guess I just wanted to remove the hurt he caused by making myself feel something new. I know you were trying to do that before with all of the adventures, but I couldn’t focus on any of the good things. I could only think of how lonely he made me and how much I was disappointing you. I just feel so worthless!” You tried to bang your head against your hand again, but The Doctor stopped you, holding your fists tightly in his.

“You could never disappoint me. And you, most certainly, aren’t worthless, Y/N. Do you want to know why?” You played his game and asked why, how tightly he was holding you contrasting severely with the softness of his tone. It was strangely comforting and one of the most intimate moments you’ve ever experienced. 

“Because I chose you. Because you were the only one observant and empathetic enough to see and appreciate the simpler things. There are very few people like you. In fact, there is no one like you. You are completely unique within the cosmos, to do away with the magic you hold in your heart and soul, it would be a waste. A complete and utter tragedy to the whole of existence. And I know that I am not the person you probably want in this bed, but I will be here whenever you need. We can go on adventure, we can revisit those places from before so you don't feel as if you missed out on anything, and we can just sit and talk or hold each other. You’re not alone in this, Y/N. You have me, and it will take time, but everything will, one day, be okay.”

“Thank you, Doctor, I really don’t know where I would be without you. You’ve cared for me more than anyone.” You paused and pulled his arms tighter around your body before looking up at his face, “And don’t be so hard on yourself, Doctor. You are an ageless alien showing me the universe. No offence, but what does the emotionless ex boyfriend of mine have that you don't possess tenfold?” He blushed down at you, avoiding eye contact for a moment, then looking back. He turned you around in his arms so you were facing him and leant his forehead against yours. You talked for a few moments like this, eventually growing tired. The Doctor said that you should sleep and you wrapped your arms around him so he couldn’t leave. He chuckled and hugged you back, moving the blankets that had fallen down a bit tighter around your bodies. After you fell asleep, The Doctor kissed your forehead and rubbed your back, whispering promises to protect you and help you out of this dark period.

#dhawan!doctor #dhawan!doctor x reader #doctor who x reader #personal post #doctor who imagine #sacha dhawan #fanfiction

[lord-explosion-baku]

Bakugou x reader

Warnings: ANGST, suicidal thought mention, lots of that kinda talk, more angst, kinda fluff

A/N: I wasn’t sure how to go about this. I wasn’t particularly sure what you wanted from this request but I hope it helped? I changed it up a bit for like... context reasons. Note that at first Bakugou doesn’t react the way that people should react when hearing this kind of news but it is how a lot of people act regardless. National Suicide Hotline: [phone]. No matter what the reason if you are having suicidal thoughts, you should tell a trusted adult. Don’t keep something like that a secret.

Bakugou’s eyes finally snapped open after fifteen seconds of hearing that infernal morning ringtone you had. He reached over your sleeping body and snatched your hellphone off the side table and read the label, ‘pick up Kiyomi,’ before silencing the alarm.

Odd. Bakugou didn’t know a Kiyomi. Why would you be picking her up? You hadn’t mentioned having to get anyone at all…

Bakugou hovered over your warm body for a moment longer. Your lids fell heavy over your eyes, blanketing your dreams by being interrupted from the outside worlds, and your mouth was curled into a small smile. You looked so peaceful… so cute. Bakugou was incredibly grateful for any night you were able to stay in his bed but he loved the mornings even more. He liked waking up before you so he could see you like this; and that blasted alarm clock almost ruined that for him.

A small squeak escaped your throat and your sleepy eyes fluttered open to meet Bakugou’s. Bakugou felt his chest tighten and his face heat up when your lips curled into a grin and you whispered, “g’morning Katsuki…”

So. fucking. cute.

“That damn alarm of yours woke me up,” his low croaky morning voice probably sounded more hostile than he wanted but it didn’t matter. You had accepted that part of him and he loved you even more for it.

“Mmmm,” your light fingers tiptoed up his arm before reaching around his back to pull you closer. Bakugou rested his head on your chest and relaxed his body against the warmth of yours. You were his paradise.

“‘m sorry baby,” you said, “that’s my alarm for work. I forgot to turn it off before bed. I had been a bit… preoccupied.”

That might’ve been an understatement. Bakugou made it a goal to make sure that when he had you to himself, you could only think about him. He couldn’t blame you for forgetting something as mundane as an alarm clock, even if it went off an hour before he usually got out of bed.

“Who’s Kiyomi?”

“Kiyomi??” You looked at him as if he was a mad man spouting nonsense.

Bakugou rolled his eyes. “The alarm said you have to pick Kiyomi up. I didn’t think you had any plans today.”

You let out a yawn and rub your eyes, squirming farther down the bed so your feet could get warmer and Bakugou could get closer. “Right,” you finally realized what he was talking about. “Kiyomi is a friend who lives overseas. I set that alarm months ago for when she needed me to pick her up from the airport. I guess I started using that alarm to get up in the morning.”

“Shouldn’t you change it to something different now?”

You laughed, “to what? ‘Get your lazy ass out of bed’?”

“Tss!” He grabbed you and rolled over onto his back, pulling you on top of him. “You don’t have a lazy ass,” he said while his hands slid down your backside. “You have a fine ass.” To prove his point, he gave your bottom a smack.

“Katsuki!” You buried your red face deep into the crook of his neck, your breathy laughter sending a jubilant wave of prickles down his body. “Sometimes I have a lazy ass. I feel like I could spend entire days in bed; nothing to worry about, just warmth and dreams.”

“If you’re dreaming all damn day then you won’t be able to spend any time with me.”

“That’s not true,” your cheek brushed up against his ear while you turned your face towards him. “Don’t you know that you’re in all of my good dreams?”

Bakugou felt another pang in his chest. He loved you so goddamn much. “Liar.”

“S’not a lie. Dream Bakugou makes it harder to wake up.”

“Yeah well I’m the real deal so hopefully I can make it easier to live in reality. C’mon,” he sat up, “let’s get breakfast.”

“Nooo,” You whined, falling back into the bed. “It’s so early! Can’t we lay here a bit longer?”

“I don’t think so, princess. I’m wide awake because of you and I don’t think I can trust you with that dream Bakugou guy.”

“Just five more minutes, Katsuki, pleeease?”

Bakugou scowled at your pouting lips before bowing his head down and planting a sweet peck on them. “If you’re not up in ten, I’m carrying you out of this bed.”

You grinned back at him. “Promise?”

He kissed you again. “Don’t be cute.”

Bakugou had actually let you sleep in for thirty more minutes before carrying you out and into his kitchen. He had already prepared you some tea and fruit for you to eat and was about to put a quiche pie into the oven. You had told him about the french dish awhile ago and he’s been wanting to make it for you ever since, making sure to add in some cayenne pepper to make it his. He asked you to set and alarm for forty minutes and you absentmindedly scrolled through your set of alarms and chose one that was already set for forty minutes in the future.

The time spent waiting for the quiche was time spent, laughing and throwing grapes at one another which eventually lead to a battle that Bakugou had to win, showing his victorious authority but pushing you up on top the kitchen counter and wedging between you, holding you close, kissing your neck and shoulders, showing you that he could make you feel all kinds of things that bastard Dream Bakugou couldn’t. When his daring fingers met the hem of your pajama pants, the terrible song you had for your alarm finally went off.

You smirked down at him. “Wouldn’t want to burn our meal, would we?”

He glared back at you, grabbing your chin, he playfully bit down on your bottom lip. “This isn’t over.”

You slipped down from the counter and fetched the quiche out of the oven, leaving your alarm to play in a continuous loop. Bakugou grabbed your vibrating phone and switched the alarm off but not before he read what it said.

“Y/N…” he whispered.

“This smells delicious Katsuki!” You chirped back, placing the dish on the the stove to cool off. “It looks so fluffy.”

“What the hell does this mean?”

“I don’t know… isn’t it supposed to be fluffy when it comes right out of the oven? It’s still hot so I’m sure it’ll go down when it’s cooled off?”

“Y/N!” He barked and you jumped. He didn’t mean to frighten you but Bakugou a tension grow in his back. The alarm… your alarm didn’t make sense to him.

“‘Maybe don’t kill yourself today’?” He read aloud. He thrust your phone in your face and you gingerly took it back. Slowly your brows knitted together in understanding.

“Oh.”

“What does that mean, Y/N?!”

“It’s… well it’s nothing now. Another old alarm. I don’t even know when I made it.” Bakugou said nothing back. He couldn’t. He needed a better explanation. You took in a long breath before setting your phone down. “I just… used to feel… sad, I guess. And maybe sad isn’t the best word. I don’t know, babe. It was just like a special message for me to keep going. I made it a long time ago and haven’t changed it, like the ‘Kiyomi’ thing. Ha… I’ve had this phone for a long time, huh?”

“Don’t change the subject,” Bakugou murmured, letting his voice crack only slightly.

“Baby,” You cooed, reaching out to him. He took your hand and pulled it against his bare chest. You were so warm. He couldn’t imagine your touch… your hands… not being warm anymore. “Listen, I’m here. I’m fine.”

“You’re just fine?”

“Well yeah but I don’t mean-,”

“When did you make it?” He cut you off, his mind whirling, trying to find memories or any signs or tells that you were depressed. It was aggravating. He couldn’t see it. He didn’t know.

“I told you, I don’t remember.”

“Was I in your life when you made it,” Bakugou’s adam’s apple bobbed while he grit his teeth, “did you know me?”

“Katsuki…”

“Because what kind of boyfriend would I be if I just let you feel this way. I thought… I thought that we were good together.”

“Bakugou! It has nothing to do with you! I’m happy when I’m with you and I’m fine most of the time but sometimes I just let these weird feelings creep in on me, okay? I don’t think I’m ever going to act on them but sometimes I just… ! I just don’t want to exist!”

“What?” Bakugou couldn’t help it. He was shaking. “So you still feel this way?”

“I’m sorry but why do I feel like I’m in trouble here? Katsuki, things like this don’t just disappear. It’s an ugly black goo monster that latches on to people and they have to live with it and there’s nothing that I or anyone else can do about it!”

“Nothing you can do? You can start with telling me about how you feel! I feel like a goddamn idiot not knowing that the person I love more than anything in this world wants to kill themselves!”

“Well, I don’t want to kill myself! That’s why I made that alarm in the first place! And sorry but it’s not always such an easy thing to talk about! You’d get annoyed with me if I told you all about how sad I am a lot of the time!”

“Annoyed with you? Y/N-,” he seethed, “I get annoyed when you steal the good blankets and when that damn song plays whenever your alarms go off but I still love you regardless. Talking about shit like this what you’re supposed to do in loving, trusting relationships!” He brushed a hand through his hair. “Maybe… you don’t trust me. Or maybe I don’t say all the nice things I think to say to you but-! Fuck, Y/N, I don’t want you to be scared of talking to me. If I can’t… make sure that everything in your life is okay all the time, I’d at least want to help you with that…”

“Again, Katsuki. It’s not about you. And I have talked about it with other people before… and they all say the same things; I should just cheer up or stop thinking about it. After awhile I kinda realized I was being a burden. And I don’t want to be a burden to you.”

“Fuck everyone else, you are not a burden to me! Not ever! And I’d rather have you talk to me a hundred thousand times before you feel alone in this. I’d rather have you scream at the top of your lungs at me then… not have you at all. Y/N, I can’t… imagine my life without you. If you were to disappear… like that… my entire world would be shattered. F-fuck!”

“Kat-!” Before you could finish saying his name he wrapped his arms around you. Tears that burned his eyes fell from his cheek and into your hair. He could feel his own chest getting wet from your eyes. They were hot, like you. Warm.

“Please talk to me,” his voice was muffled by your hair. “I want to hear it. Whenever. Whenever you get these feelings I want you to call me and I’ll ask if you want to talk about them and if you don’t, I’ll find a way to distract you. I know I’m a fucking asshole sometimes but I want to be there for you, do you understand? Just please don’t think that you’re alone in this.”

“Okay, Katsuki. I will.”

“Promise me.”

“... I promise.”

He held you for a long time. The quiche cooled down but neither of you cared. All that mattered was that you were in Bakugou’s arms. You were safe. He’d always keep you safe.

Finally you pulled away and wiped your cheeks. You cupped Bakugou’s face wipes away his own tears with your thumb. “I’m sorry I upset you, Katsuki.”

“Don’t apologize. Just know that if anything ever happened to you I’d have to kill the grim reaper to bring you back… Have you thought about… going to therapy? Or maybe going on antidepressants?”

“I have… but I don’t know if I want to do that yet. I really am okay most of the time. But if things get serious, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Good,” he sniffed and cleared his throat. “Can I have your phone?”

“Why?”

“I gotta change some of your alarm messages.”

The rest of the day went well. You smiled a lot and enjoyed the quiche though you challenged Bakugou, saying that you could probably make a better one. The two of you went on a short hike and enjoyed the refreshing air. He watched you climb up on rocks and laugh and sing, granted terribly, but he loved it and he loved you. He had to keep his eyes on you. He loved keeping his eyes on you. After that day, something changed for Bakugou. While he watched you, he couldn’t help but worry that he might not ever see you again. So he watched. And he savored. And he loved.

The next morning you woke up to Bakugou’s second favorite song. The message for your alarm said, ‘wake up, gorgeous.’ It was simple but it made you smile. By the time you got to your fridge and closed it, thinking that nothing really appealed to you, you got another alarm. ���If you don’t eat your breakfast, you’ll never be able to beat king Bakugou in a sparring match.’ That was oddly inspiring. Bakugou always knew how to channel your competitive side. Throughout the day other alarms went off with silly messages like ‘daydreaming about your boyfriend again?’ And ‘he’s thinking about you.’ But the ones that really struck you were the ones that said ‘you’re so strong. you’re doing great.’ Bakugou had never been great with words but it really meant a lot to you that he had set those messages up just for you. You were incredibly thankful for him.

You couldn’t see Bakugou that night but you made sure to call him before going to bed. He was soft on the phone. You made a point to point out to him that you weren’t fragile and he made a point to point out to you that he already knew. He’d seen you in bed. After you ended the call with your face a blushing mess you got another alarm.

‘Sleep is the best medicine. Lay that pretty head to rest.’ And only one minute later, ‘if Dream Bakugou lays a finger on you, I’ll kick his ass <3’

Tags for EVERYTHING (closed): @yandere-inamorata @miitaart @dessiedawnwritesfanfiction @wickedlewicked @chickennuggetsarequestionable @nevermorelanore @kpanime @ayeputita @captain-sin-allmight-queen @diisasterbii @iceformer @meganofmars @colagirl5 @colorbookshd @grimmjadeskye @sm0kingcrack @sarcastictextstuck @zellllyyyy @psionicsnow @mynahx3 @andie-in-tumblland @iamthe-leaf @midnightfeline666 @bungou-stray-alies-tales-of-aly -of-aly @rubyred-imagines 28 @kattariapenn @heypartypeps @quirktaker @thecryingsombra @smbody-stole-mycar-radio @ghost-of-todoroki @geektastic84 @davalia @glixeo @rubycubix @mekakushi-dan-01-kido

#angst #tw suicide #tw suicide mention #bakugou scenario #bnha x reader #bnha imagine #bnha #bnha reader insert #reader insert #boku no hero academia #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader

[purplellamanator]

Drabble Request 🥳

72. "Just smile, I really need to see you smile right now."

This ask was sent in by @unicorn-rainbow321 🤗I'm so glad you liked the other one enough to send in another ask so here it is 😘 Hope you enjoy this one as well 🥳 I have two more requests after this one, so I’m gonna have to put a hold on the requests after these two 👍 Just so I can finish the next chapter of Interview Mania. 🤗 it’s done I just need to edit it!

Saying he was naive for believing everything could just go back to the way things were before, was an understatement. To actually think after all him, his family, and his friends had gone through with the takedown of the Black Organization- after all the lies he told, that life could just bounce back was honestly stupid.

With the takedown of the Syndicate and the finding of a cure, he was exposed. The great secret of Edogawa Conan was revealed and how he always knew there would be, there were consequences.

Shinichi had known since the beginning that Ran would want to kill him. He knew what he had done was a betrayal against her trust. Especially when they had been dating for three months of it.

When it finally came out, the half a year of school work he missed meant nothing to him in comparison to his . . . girlfriend?

He said it questioningly because at the moment, he honestly didn't know if that was the correct endearment to use with her. Since leaving the Mouri Detective Agency to live in his own house and between all the court cases and hearings- they hadn't been able to talk. Shinichi had no idea where they stood in their . . relationship?

Ran was avoiding him. He knew that. And for the first few days, he let that slide. He figured she'd need the time anyway and him bombarding her with apologies and pleas would only aggravate the situation further.

But after all the hearings and almost two weeks in of being the Great Detective of the East again, Ran had yet to even acknowledge him. Even Sonoko would glance between them nervously when instead of going to talk to each other, they would both just sit silently in their seats.

Admittedly, during all the initial madness, he had to miss some more school. He was a key player in taking the BO down and solidifying why they should all be behind bars for as long as they lived. But during all of that, he still checked his phone. He still looked at her contact in his cell phone debating on if he should call her.

He never did. And each message he ever composed, he'd delete it or save it as a draft before finally deleting that too. It wasn’t like he was gone again. He was here. He was here with her. If she wanted to reach out him, she could and she would’ve done so already.

The one thing that killed him more than anything though, was the constant frown she walked around with. Her eyes seemed dull and her lips in a firm line. She never looked happy anymore and he wished he knew how she was really taking all of this.

He had expected for things to either go back to the way they were before or for her to come out with fists flying. Since neither happened, Shinichi was confused. He hadn't expected no reaction. He had at least expected her to demand answers and ask a billion questions. Ran however was acting like she couldn't care less. Well- more like she was acting like he never came back.

Finally deciding that he had given her more than enough space, he texted her. It was a weekend so there was no school so no real excuse to see his girlfriend except for the fact that he wanted to. And she was his girlfriend as far as he was concerned. She'd be his girlfriend until she told him otherwise because Shinichi didn't care what her or anybody thought. A cold shoulder was not going to be the way she dumped him. He wouldn't allow it.

He knew he had always said he'd let her go if that's what she wanted. If that was for the best. But he had gone through so much. He had missed so many chances and he would allow himself to be selfish just this once. He loved her. If she would just speak to him he'd make sure she knew that. He'd admit anything to her, no matter how much it embarrassed him.

So taking a chance, he sent her a mail.

'Hey, we haven't really had a chance to talk about everything. Can I see you?'

He didn't want to sound too desperate even though he really was. But there was no way he was going to hide the fact he wanted to see her. He had already done that before the whole Conan incident. He had already played pretend with his feelings. He wasn't going to pretend with her anymore.

Her response was almost instantaneous and he'd like to think if it was because she had been staring at her phone as well.

'Can I come over now?'

Swallowing hard, Shinichi sent her an affirmative before he felt something odd enter his gut.

He was actually nervous. He was nervous to see Ran and it honestly had nothing to do with the argument they would no doubt have.

As Conan, he had forgotten a lot of things about being in his own body. One of them being how beautiful Ran was up close. He was used to being only three feet tall. He had forgotten the hasty thump of his heart and pulse when she got too close to him. Shinichi couldn't remember feeling that way before the BO case though he knew he had liked her long before that.

Just from the sound of a knock on his door had his chest racing. He almost wanted to calm down before greeting her but there was no way he'd risk her leaving.

Opening the door wide, he had to take a breath before opening his mouth for fear it'd come out sounding small and nervous- like he was feeling.

Figuring it would probably be best to not say anything yet, he stood back gesturing for her to come inside.

As they sat in his living room, he hated the tension in the air. It was just strained and awkward and he had no idea where to even begin. Should he just start apologizing? Should he beg for forgiveness? Figuring that probably wouldn't be the smartest route, he asked, "How've you been?"

It was a dumb question or rather he worded it incorrectly. The way he said it almost sounded as if he hadn't seen her for a long time. And though it felt that way, he had seen her everyday at school. Which was significantly less than when he was Conan and even before the whole Conan thing happened, but still in a sense, misleading.

"Dad's okay," she said simply. "I think mom's moving back in next week."

And then it was quiet again. She went back to sitting quietly while looking at her hands in her lap blankly.

He didn't have to use any detective skills to realize she hadn't mentioned herself in all of that.

"And you?" He prodded further.

"What about me?"

She couldn't be serious? She had been giving him this cold shoulder since he returned. She knew exactly what.

"I just. . . I feel like you're not even happy to see me. Like maybe it would've been better if I hadn't come back." It pained him to say it but that was literally how it felt.

"You lived in my house pretending to be a seven year old child for almost a whole year and didn't tell me till just two weeks ago," she said in the flattest tone. "I'm sorry if I'm a little upset that my boyfriend of three months already bathed with me without my consent."

Shinichi almost wanted to point out that he did indeed have her consent but he knew that was wrong. He didn't have her consent. Conan did.

Instead, doing the proper thing; he bowed his head in shame and apologized. But she had acknowledged him as her boyfriend and he decided to take that as a good sign.

"You're right. You have every right to be mad. I should've argued more about it. I should've refused. You were already finding me suspicious. I thought that if I refused then you would surely know something was up. And I know this probably means nothing to you but I swear, Ran, I never looked," he shook his head and he meant every word. There had only been one time he saw the entire front of her and it had been when she got scared and dropped her towel during the Red Woman case.

Even then, she had every right to be mad. He just didn't like how upset she looked or how depressed she was looking. And when she said nothing in response, he swallowed nervously.

He hated what he was about to suggest.

"If you want to break things off, I won't hold that against you. I just. . . I don't want to see you hurting over this anymore. If that means getting rid of me, that's fine," he said slowly like he had to pry the words out. It hurt because he knew there was a possibility she'd be taking his advice.

"Just smile. I really need to see you smile right now."

That surprised her and glancing up at him, she blinked confusedly. At the unspoken question he raised a brow.

"You've been frowning since I came back. It's worrying me," he admitted.

For the first time in two weeks, her features softened. It was clear she hadn't realized how upset she looked. Or at least she hadn’t realized she was making it that obvious. But then her face suddenly went red before she was avoiding his gaze all together.

"It's been quiet at home . . . since you left," she said while shifting in her seat uncomfortably.

Shinichi's mouth almost fell open. Was she saying she was lonely without him and that's why she was upset?

"Why didn't you call me?" He said almost disbelievingly.

“Because I was angry with you,” she admitted. “Or at least I wanted to be,” she almost whispered but he had heard her. He had picked up on the ‘was’ and his brows raised.

“You’re not mad at me?”

“Shinichi,” she sighed. “I’m honestly much more relieved than mad. I just knew with the hearing you had a lot to focus on. I mean I waited a whole year almost. I can wait two more weeks,” she said gently as she looked at him with a soft smile.

His heart skipped a beat as he picked up her meaning. He honestly thought she was ridiculous for thinking that. That he needed space from her so he could deal with these court cases. She was right. He had been gone for a good portion of a year. He had enough space but her words rang loudly within his chest.

She was still willing to wait for me?

Not really thinking about if he had her permission or not, he leaned forward at the same time of caressing her cheek and kissed her.

#dcmk #shinran #dcmk fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #shinichi kudo #ran mouri #drabbles #drabble request

[nitallica]

Cross-posted from my blog: I should have just stayed in bed

I took a mental health day yesterday. The first one I’ve had in I can’t remember how long. I woke up and texted Ryan to see if they could do without me for a day. As far as I knew I didn’t have anything pressing, and he said go for it. Honestly, I could do with a week off, and I’m sorely tempted to ask if I can do that next week. I’m tired and angry. And it seems like every time I go back in, something else sets me off.

I spent the morning watching tv and trying to decompress. I played a little GW2, and for the most part enjoyed it. I ran into someone being a complete asshat in WvW but I tend to just block and move on when it comes to PVPing in that game. The community is great … as long as you stay out of the WvW and sPVP maps. :P I tried to nap but had a splitting headache so I started watching monster movies and ordered a pizza. I figured it was Fuck it Friday, so why not?

I had considered going out that afternoon when Donna texts me asking if I’d seen a ticket that came in. No, because I removed all work-related apps from my phone since it’s a personal phone now. I find out that we’re getting a new COO … and he starts in 2 days. Great. And no one said anything to me and half his accounts are already setup, so I’ll have to figure out his Domino/Notes stuff when I get in Monday. I’m pretty sure no one thought to ask, and at this point I decide I’m too angry to go out and opted to stay home. Fuck it, I will deal with it Monday. That’s become my mantra lately … “Fuck it, I will deal with it later.”

I told Donna that right there was proof they didn’t need me and she says that anyone can setup the AD stuff but no one knows Notes. Thanks a lot. I took over setting up the AD accounts because they kept getting fucked up. And I’ve made the Notes setup as easy as possible, documenting step by step what should be done where in case anyone needed to pick up while I’m out. I’ve made this known to the entire department several times, and no one bothers to look at it, and claims “Oh, I don’t know how, we still need YOU to do this.” I’m tired of it all. I’m angry, and I’m hurt. I’m tired of reaching out to folks to try to explain, then have my feelings either minimalized or just told (in a round-about way) to get over it. And people wonder why I keep withdrawing?

I don’t think she meant it the way I took it, but I already feel alienated, left out. And shit like this doesn’t help.

So monster movies all night long, basically until I passed out. I woke up this morning and received an email that one of my fanlistings weren’t working. It turns out none of them were. I had upgraded EasyApache on my server about a month ago and performed some badly needed upgrades. I was quite frankly embarrassed at how old the software I was still running was, and decided it would be a good idea to update EVERYTHING to the latest and greatest. Yeah, did not go as planned. Worse, I decided to initiate this about 45 minutes before walking out the door to an appointment. I opened a ticket with KnownHost to let them know that I did a dumb thing and asked about rolling back to the last VPS snapshot. After some back and forth, it turned out that I didn’t really need to do that, I just needed to fix my root htaccess file. It turns out I caused my own problem with just one little line, hah!

Some days I really do question my own intelligence.

OK so this morning I’ve been digging through code and yelling at my monitor, and it seems the Enthusiast script I’ve been using is outdated. Actually, that’s an understatement, it’s a fossil, an antique. It was written for PHP 4.1 or 4.2. Even worse, this was an upgrade from an even earlier version and I’d customized the hell out of it over the years. The official Enthusiast site has been down (looks like they recently had an upgrade of their own that went TU), so I checked the repository on GitHub. It was the latest version I could find … and would not function fully on PHP7 or higher.

Lovely. /headdesk

It seems there’s a fork with an updated version of 3x that works on PHP 7.3, but I’d have to figure out how to convert my existing Enthusiast installs to it. I copied the new fork’s files on a test subdomain, created the databases needed and installed the script. Yep, NOPE! Everything’s totally different and honestly by this point I’ve been staring at code all morning and am a bit pissed off, coupled with the aggravations from work, I decided to go another route. I’m not proud of this, but it works and for now it gives me time to figure out if I want to keep these fanlistings or not. I created a new subdomain account and added PHP 5.6 to my EasyApache profile. UGH! I really don’t like adding something so old, but my plan is only to allow that one subdomain to run it. I create a new MySQL database and export from my main domain to the new subdomain. I update all config files where needed with the new db infos and BOOM, I’m back in business.

Granted, now I’ve got to clean up all of my customizations and make sure all of them work. I also have to submit a modification request to TFL letting them know that these things have been moved. Of course while I’m in there looking at the code, I’m shocked at how badly these things are written. Granted, these sites were all written 10+ years ago. I guess I can’t be too hard on myself. A small part of me badly wants to re-design these things “properly” … but a larger part of me doesn’t have enough fucks to give. It’s not that I don’t care, but … I don’t have the energy to spend on them. That actually makes me a little sad.

My therapist thinks that’s stress and/or my depression talking … these used to be little fun projects and I loved making websites one after another. And now I don’t find it fun anymore. Actually, it’s really hard for me to enjoy much of anything that I used to. I mean I laugh about it some days, but I have gotten to the point to where nothing I used to love brings joy to me anymore. My job is one thing. I can easily explain that with burnout. But this is more. I’m beginning to think that maybe I need to find another psychiatrist and give that another shot. Because I think I’m getting worse.

Anyways, I hope your weekend is going better than mine. And May the 4th be with you. ♥

... from I should have just stayed in bed

#Code #Personal #Fanlisting #Health #KnownHost #Movies #Rant #upgrade #Work

[crystal-snowing]

something more | hwang hyunjin

summary: best friends with hwang hyunjin has always had its perks, but you have always been longing for something more. 

genre: non-idol! au, best-friends-to-lovers! au, high school! au, fluff, angst

pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader 

word count: 2.2k 

Hwang Hyunjin always been a heartthrob ever since the two of you turned fourteen. There was something about puberty that seemed to hit him harder than anyone else at the school. His face became less round and more defined, his body became taller and more slender and toned, while his skin began to glow and lost its redness and puffiness—and in short, he was absolutely breathtaking. This not only attracted your attention, but the entire female population of the school, who began to hound after him as if they were the predators and he was the prey. While he matured physically, he still retained the same attitude and mannerisms that his parents taught him when he was younger, and politely declined their offers of affections and tokens of love. And while you had a breathtakingly gorgeous best friend, in the social hierarchy within the school, you couldn’t help but find yourself falling a bit below average. It wasn’t as if you were the ugliest student in the school, but you could definitely say that there were a majority of others who were certainly more worthy of his friendship and his affections than you.

You harbored a crush on Hyunjin ever since the fifth grade and it only seemed to manifest itself after puberty hit. Yet, you were not stupid and knew your place in his life. For a short time, you believed that maybe, just maybe, you would have a place by his side as something more than just his best friend—you soon however gave that up as a foolish delusion. He practically had his own fanclub as a fourteen year old, not to mention that he was a trainee for JYP Entertainment and had a whole section of fans screaming his name before he even debuted, and you obviously couldn't compete. But for the moment, or as much as long as you have been telling yourself, you are content with being his best friend and willing to do whatever it takes to preserve his happiness.

Lately though, your relationship with him has been a bit more distant than you would have hoped. While the two of you would usually hang out everyday after school, to either help him study for an upcoming test or homework, this has drastically been reduced to maybe once or twice every two weeks. You understood, he was a trainee and had other friends including the boys in his group, but you would be lying if you said that you weren’t a bit depressed with the change. Things were changing and you were unsure whether it was for worse or for better, and you were never one to handle change that well.

You began to see him less and less, texts and calls between the two of you became less frequent, till all you were receiving was radio silence. Of course you still saw him in class and in lunch with the rest of his friends, but it wasn’t the same as hanging out alone with him.  It was hurtful to say the least, and you even texted Felix, Changbin, Jisung and Jeongin wondering what caused him to suddenly pull away, and that’s when you first heard of their name. They were a new trainee and new to the area as well, and it seemed as if Hyunjin had made it his personal mission to help them out. From there they seemed to invade every single aspect of your life, they showed up at your school as a new student, at your lunch table, and in your classes—and you were becoming tired of their presence. They was practically glued to Hyunjin’s side, and you wondering if you were the only one continuously aggravated by the sight of them. Soon they seemed to take over your place as Hyunjin’s best friend, while you were simply nothing but leftover goods.

There was no way you could possibly rationale their relationship—or even think about their relationship without feeling slightly nauseous and uneasy. You would be lying if you said you weren’t jealous, but you and Hyunjin weren’t dating and therefore, you simply had no input on the issue. You wanted to scream and cry, blaming life for being so unfairly cruel to you, but in this situation you were powerless to do anything—and therefore, just let everything happen. In some twisted sense, you felt as if you saw this coming. Hwang Hyunjin was the perfect boy and deserved someone equally as perfect by his side, and that someone was not you.

Throughout all of this, you tried to keep your distance from the rest of his friends, while they were incredibly nice and welcoming people, you couldn’t bear to hear stories about him and the other trainee or you were certain that you would spontaneously combust. Yet, there was one person who you still remained in constant contact with, no matter how hard you tried to separate yourself. In a way, Jisung has sort of acted like a rock for you in this situation, being there when you needed someone to stay with you—almost replacing Hwang Hyunjin as your best friend, but you knew that no one could possibly replace him. The two of you became almost as inseparable as you and Hyunjin, and in the span of a couple of weeks, you almost forgot about the trainee and him—almost.  

The first day that Hyunjin saw your arm linked with Jisung’s as the two of you walked down the hall, he could swear that his blood was boiling beneath his skin. He’s seen the two of you together before, but this time the way the other boy was looking at you and the way your eyes lit up as you were laughing along to his joke, ignited something deep inside him. There was only one possible explanation and he thought it was a bit cruel and immature for you to be acting this way. He was busy for the past month, and while he felt absolutely terrible for neglecting you and spending time with the new trainee over you, his best friend, but he’s been having trouble balancing his classes and being an idol in training. In his defense, he didn’t mean to do anything to hurt you, but he had to admit hanging out with Jisung in order to mock him and make him jealous was a bit petty—even for your standards. With his hands clenched as fists by his side, he slammed his locker shut and walked down the hall. 

From then on, you seemed to notice a change within him, a shift and not only was he spending more time with the trainee, but you were definitely certain that the two were becoming intimately closer. When walking down the halls of the school, he would casually let his hand brush theirs or when he was telling them a joke by his locker, his hands would cup their cheek as if he was about to kiss them. To say that you were infuriated was an understatement, as you decided that fine, if he was going to act this petty than you would do the same. You cuddled up with Jisung, linking arms with him as you walked from class to class and allowing your shoulders to touch as the two of you walked, and at lunch you would offer him some of your food, making sure to feed him with your spoon or fork. It was hard to ignore the redness that spread across Hyunjin’s face, as he turned away and clenched his teeth.

The two of you could have gone on forever, playing this twisted game of cat and mouse; however, it was taking a heavy emotional toll on the both of you. Every time you would see the two of them together you could practically feel your heart breaking a bit more, and the a lump in your throat form as you swallowed back your tears. Also, it was cruel to use Jisung as a pawn when he has been nothing but kind to you. That’s how you ended up in current situation, sitting across the lunch table surrounded by the rest of Stray Kids and the trainee. You sat across from him with Jisung by your side and the trainee sat by Hyunjin’s side, their arm linked with his as he elaborately explained a story that happened during one of their practices. While everyone seemed to be engrossed by his story, laughing along and adding comments here and there, you were glaring daggers at the trainee who was once again cuddled up at his side.

After the story was finished, Hyunjin slung his arm around the trainee and smirked, pulling them closer to his side. You could hear the trainee giggle, leaning up and whispering something into his ear, causing him to laugh as your fists clenched underneath the table. However, what really killed you was when he cupped their cheek and turned away leaning in close as he was going to kiss them. Around you there were wolf-whistles and screams of encouragement, but you couldn’t hear anything past the the blood rushing in your ears. Immediately you stood, clumsily muttering out an apology and excuse before running out of the room and down the hall.

You didn't have any particular place that you were running to as you just allowed your feet guide you. Somehow you ended up in a deserted hallway, placing your hands on your knees as you tried to stop the free-fall of tears that were dripping from your eyes. It was stupid to cry, he wasn’t even yours and yet here you were—sitting in a silent hallway sobbing because he really was about to kiss another girl. You heard slow footsteps approaching behind you, and you did your best in order to look presentable. Rubbing your eyes and cheeks with your sleeves, and patting down your hair, and taking a couple of deep breaths before turning around. You expected to see Jisung’s sympathetic face, but instead you were met with the concerned eyes of the one person who you loathed the most in that moment.

There he stood, Hwang Hyunjin in all his glory standing with his hands casually resting inside his pockets. He looked a bit frazzled as if he ran to catch up with you, but nevertheless he wore the same concerned and kind smile that he had when he first met you. And despite his charming looks, it didn’t change how much you wanted to punch him in the face.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Me! Have you looked at yourself lately?”

You scoffed, crossing your arms across your chest. Clearly, you were aware that from the beginning everything was being blown completely out of proportion, and while you were both at fault, it did not give him any right to act like he was superior than you.

“You were about to kiss them!”

“So what? It isn’t any of your business who I kiss,” he huffed, crossing his arms across his chest. And his words just broke you, your knees already feeling weak as you placed your hand on the wall to keep you stable. Your fist was clenched as it turned white, tears beginning to once again cloud your eyes and threatening to fall as you struggled to form the right words to say. Everything that you have been meaning to say ever since you were fourteen came rushing back to you, sitting on the tip of your tongue ready to escape. You were conflicted, yet before you could contain yourself, the words came tumbling out.

“It is my business who you kiss when I wished that you would kiss me like that! You are so dense aren’t you, Hyunjin? Ever since we were fourteen, god, I wanted you to look at me just once like those girls in your fan club looked at you—just once I wished you would look past the fact that I’m your best friend and see me as someone that you could be with as a lover. It has always been you and as much as I tried to ignore these feelings, it will always be you,” you paused, running your hands through your hair, “look, I don’t expect you to return my feelings or anything, and I know that this probably ruined our friendship and I’m sorry about that and—”

“You idiot,” he breathlessly spoke, before leaning forward, cupping your cheek and crashing his lips onto yours.

The kiss was everything that you could have possibly imagined and more, his lips were soft against your own and after a moment or two, he pulled away grinning. To say that you were absolutely dumbfounded was a correct statement, and you stared at him—lips slightly agape and with wide eyes.

“So does that mean—” you started, slightly fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

“Why would I want someone else that’s not you? I’ve loved you since the spring I turned fourteen, and I’ve been waiting for some sort of signal or sign that you liked me back. I mean, I didn’t expect that new trainee to come along and almost tear apart our years of friendship due to some misunderstanding but honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Plus, you are pretty cute when you’re jealous,” he smirked, earning a soft smack on the arm from you, “but, I would never choose anyone over you, especially when they don’t mean as much to me as you do.”

And with that Hyunjin enveloped you in another kiss, signifying the start of a future where both of your dreams have already come true.

#stray kids imagines #hwang hyunjin #hwang hyunjin x reader #kpop imagines #stray kids #kpop scenarios #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #my writing

[my-honourable-barbarian]

I doubt nicknames will be necessary - A/N

No update today. Been depressed for days and I can’t type anything useful. The chapter is almost done, but needs some smoothing and in parts re-writing.

I’m trying my best to get back to not only functional, but passionate. I don’t want to write while I can’t feel anything - what I produce then is mostly garbage. I think Monday is realistic, if I’m lucky earlier.

I think it makes sense to move my regular update day to Monday as well, so that I’ll have the week-end for end-of-deadline-writing in the future.

Sorry!

To tide you over, have the beginning of the chapter:

I doubt nicknames will be necessary - Chapter 10

Nikandros was not a morning person. Mornings were bad, inconsiderate intrusions with light where there was supposed to be darkness and alarm clocks where there was supposed to be sleep. Nikandros particularly wasn’t a morning person on week-ends.

He especially was not a morning person when woken by the phone shortly before eight – at least four hours away from his sleep goal. And it wasn’t even Lykaios calling, who was currently overseas and the only reason Nikandros has his phone on at all.

Nonetheless, here it was: noise.

“What,” he barked into the phone when he’d managed to pick it up.

“I’m in love, Nik,” said Damen, because of course that was who was calling and of course that was why he was calling.

Nikandros groaned. “At 7:47 in the morning?”

“Pretty much around the clock,” said Damen, who was missing the point.

Nikandros was about to start his day not only early, but with a headache.

“Not with that terrible French snake man.”

“Of course with Laurent; who else?”

There were things Nikandros could be doing right now. Things he would, at this point in time, give his beard for. Sleep. Perchance a dream. Preferably of anything but this hot mess.

“And you felt the need to tell me about this now?” he growled, “On a Saturday morning when I haven’t seen my fiancée in three weeks?”

“We slept together.”

“Great,” groaned Nikandros, whose mind was thankfully too tired to conjure up any images he’d rather not have stuck in his head. At least almost. Nope, there they were.

“But we didn’t sleep together,” continued Damen, evidently frustrated. It would serve him right, if he were not bothering Nikandros with it.

“You’re not making any sense.”

Damen didn’t speak for a moment and Nikandros seriously considered just hanging up.

“He kicked me out,” he heard eventually.

Were they having this conversation at a less god-awful time, Nikandros would have laughed at him. Unfortunately, he knew enough details about his best friend’s sex life to know this had never happened to Damen before. It was probably where these delusions about being in love came from.

“That’s why you’re calling?” He pressed the crook of his arm into his eyes to keep the damn light out.

“It was that or ask Jokaste. For help, not for a hook-up.”

Alright, fine. In light of this, waking Nikandros had been the better call. Certainly the one less likely to cause permanent damage to anyone.

“You’re pouting because your neighbor made you do the walk of shame all the way across the hallway.”

“I’m not pouting, I’m-… concerned.”

Nikandros was concerned as well. About Damen’s mental health. Just walk away and be done with it and you’ll spare yourself a wealth of pain, he wanted to say, but unfortunately, Damen tended to be stubborn about the people he recklessly gave his overly large heart to.

“Maybe you just aren’t up to his standards,” he said instead, resigning himself to a longer conversation. “He does seem high-maintenance.” Which was a most kind understatement.

Damen scoffed, finally reclaiming some of his usual arrogance about his sexual prowess. That, again, Nikandros wished he had learned less about in the course of their many years in close proximity.

“Believe me, that’s not what happened.”

Nikandros probably shouldn’t have rolled his eyes. Mixed with the very unwelcome rays of sun, it just aggravated his headache.

But halfway through regretting that course of action, and wishing he could just pull the damn blanket over his head, Damen faltered.

Damen, king of unasked-for details about sexual exploits, went quiet and uncertain.

“Or at least, I hope it didn’t. I mean, it was definitely good for him, but also-… he sometimes-…”

He stopped speaking.

Then, “I can’t talk to you about this.”

And ended the call.

Nikandros blinked at the dead phone for a few long, wretched, sun-drenched moments longer.

#lamen #captive prince #phone sex operator AU #i'm sorry #i'll be back with more as soon as i can #thank you for reading my story

[harry-writings]

Stay Away From Me

- Part 3 of the one where he’s dangerous, but not around you

Part 1 Part 2

Masterlist linked in bio

-

Three months after Harry called off his relationship with Y/n, it was his birthday.

And just like every other year for the past five, the boys decided to spend his birthday weekend at Louis’ family lake house. It was one of the few times a year they’d go as the house is only saved for special occasions. It’s secluded—far from the city—but close enough so that it’s not too much out of their way.

Their tradition when it comes to Harry’s birthday has remained the same for years now—abonfire, a couple of poker games, countless amounts of beer, and occasional midnight skinny dipping. 

However, this year, the only change in tradition is Y/n not attending.

The second Harry steps foot out of his car, the whole idea of spending his birthday without Y/n makes him feel sick to his stomach, considering the lake house was their favorite place to be together. They didn’t know why, but something about the privacy and the exclusiveness of it enhanced their relationship in unimaginable ways. They have had almost too many occasions where they would flee from London without a word and spend a couple days alone there. 

Which is why the whole idea just seems so wrong to him. 

And he really can’t be any more depressed if he tried. Even when his best friends are already having what seems to be the time of their lives, he can’t even pretend to enjoy himself in the slightest. 

He can’t blame them for their excitement, though. He shouldn’t have expected them to be any less because they had absolutely no idea what was going on. 

He didn’t tell them—he didn’t tell them any of it. Because if they had found out that he let Y/n slip right through his fingers, he’d never hear the end of it. And in between constantly beating himself up for his decision and sulking in his guilt every second of every day, he didn’t need anyone else to remind him of how much he fucked up.

But ever since Y/n left, something in him changed. 

He had no desire to fight anymore. 

Three days after he broke it off, he was worse than ever. Getting himself into numerous fights multiple times a day. It was his way of coping the loss of her— the loss of his only true humanity. However, when the fourth day came, and Harry started to really understand the fact that he was never going to see Y/n again, was when the pain really set in.

She tried so hard for him. She pushed him harder than anybody else had— nobody put as much faith in him as she had. She stayed with him in times he truly didn’t deserve it. Hell, there were even days where she was so livid with him that all she could do was yell and yell and yell until she had no anger left in her. 

But even then, she still slept in the same bed as him—still kept him by her side because she wanted to reassure him that no matter what happens between them, she’d never leave him. 

He couldn’t live with letting all of that go—letting her go—so he decided to prove himself wrong.

It was the biggest fight of his life—the one against himself; when half of him wanted to inflict his pain onto other people and the other half wanting so desperately to change himself for the sake of their relationship. But he knew he was stronger than the monster inside of him, even though he convinced himself otherwise. What made him strong was his relationship with Y/n. 

He would stop at nothing to get her back.

As for Y/n, it didn’t take Y/n more than a couple days to tell Zayn what had happened between them. 

He called her, asking what was going on since everyone has noticed Harry had been a complete wreck with no sign of her in his life. She explained—in the best that she could between her harsh sobs and broken whimpers—that Harry had left her. He broke up with her, tried to convince her that they didn’t belong together, and eventually confessed that he just couldn’t be with her anymore.

Y/n made him promise not to tell anybody else because she felt that this was Harry’s responsibility. Which, luckily for her, Zayn kept his promise and never said a word about it to anyone. 

The rest of the guys tried to get it out of him, though. They never forced it, but occasionally mentioned her in casual conversations to see what he would say or do. But each and every time, he ignored them. The mention of her name killed him on the inside, and he still can’t face the reality that they aren’t together anymore.

To say the guys have been concerned for him is an understatement. Sure, he’s stopped fighting, but he’s still not the same Harry he was when he was with Y/n. He’s constantly distracted—his mind always somewhere not where it’s supposed to be. He drinks more, too, which used to spike up his anger, but now only spikes up his depression. He has no motivation to do anything besides stay in his house and dwell on the guilt he’s carried.

Getting him to the lake house is one of their ways of getting him to heal. They just don’t know how much this place kills him, though. God, he can’t even look at a single square inch of it without seeing her in his head. 

How the hell is he going to get through the weekend?

The boys begin to notice how hurt Harry is when he begins to prepare for the bonfire they planned on having later on that night. And instead of telling them how truly heartbreaking this weekend is going to be for him, he avoids that topic of conversation completely. 

He was already depressed enough, he didn’t need to bury himself in it on his own birthday.

Harry groans, lifting heavy piles of wood and constructing them into a setup for later. He’s finished now—has been finished for a while—but he just can’t stop. All he can think about is how Y/n isn’t with him—how she’s probably in her new home, sulking, hating him for ruining her life. 

It’s his weekend, and she probably hates him.

He sighs, placing his hands on his knees and leaning forward, eyes trained on the ground. He just can’t get her out of his head, no matter how much he tries to distract himself, almost every waking moment he’s thinking about the first time they met.

-

They were at a party Zayn’s aunt decided to host. It was a casual-formal event, just something special for her close friends to feel welcomed to upon their return to London after being in the states for a while.

Zayn was, obviously, invited. His aunt even insisted on him bringing his best friends, which he probably would have done, anyways, because he wasn’t too familiar with the family the party was for. The only member he’s ever really talked to was Y/n. She was super shy, very introverted, but was extremely sweet nonetheless. She had talked to Zayn a couple times when they stayed at his aunt’s house simultaneously. Other than that, they didn’t talk much.

“C’mon, you’re just gonna stand in the corner all night?” Zayn approached Harry, a glass of vodka held loosely in his hands.

Harry was pissed he was even in the situation he was in. Social events weren’t his thing—never something he found entertaining. He didn’t care about this stupid family’s return, he didn’t even know them.

“This is the last goddam place I want to be right now” Harry seethed, “I’m pissed off at you for even fucking forcing me here, don’t force me to try and mingle, too.”

He let out a slight grumble in Zayn’s direction before making his way to the mini bar. On his way, in the midst of his aggravation, he felt a body collide with his. 

He groaned, a slight growl in the mix, definitely not in any mood for people to get in his way.

“Watch where you’re—"

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” The girl gasped, “I didn’t see you there.”

Harry’s body immediately froze at the sight of her. She was the most stunning woman he’s ever seen. Her eyes were sparkling in the dim light, lips parted slightly due to the impact, her body complimented beautifully by her outfit, leaving him absolutely speechless.

“I—It’s okay” He stuttered, eyes never leaving hers, “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

She nodded slightly, completely captivated by the most handsome man standing in front of her. God, how he was so beautiful? She would have never known a man like this could ever exist in this world.

“I’m okay.” She softly spoke, “Thank you.”

Harry insisted on buying her a drink as a way to apologize for not paying attention to where he was going. They chatted for a while, mainly about the party. Come to find out, she was the daughter of Zayn’s aunt’s friends. She hadn’t gone to the states with them, however, she didn’t really make too much of an effort to go and see her during her stay in London.

They were talking quite well, considering Harry definitely did give her an attitude at times and somehow made her feel extremely intimidated whenever he did so. But he had to admit, it was one of the best conversations he’s had in a while, despite his unfriendly character.

“What’s your name, by the way?” Harry finally asked.

She blushed slightly.

“I’m Y/n. And you?”

“Harry."

“Oh, you’re Harry.” Y/n said quietly, a hint of realization in her tone of voice.

Harry didn’t like the way she said it—as if insulting him in a way. Which, for him, was a bit of a let down considering there was a moment where he genuinely believed she was different.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Harry snapped, his voice somehow rougher and raspier than how it was before, “Like you’re any better?"

His harsh glare upon her made Y/n feel belittled. When he spoke to her, he made her feel as if her existence was the dirt beneath his shoes. No wonder Zayn had warned her, no girl like Y/n could survive five minutes with such a vulgar man.

“Oh, um—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just—it’s just that Zayn had told me to stay away from you.” She stuttered, her voice barely above a mumble.

She still refused to make eye contact with him, only for the sake of her safety. She was too afraid to look at him—when his body seemed tense and eyes filled with aggression. She was an easy prey for people like him to feed on—to get a good kick out of. 

She had to get out of it immediately.

“I should go.” She muttered as her fingers brushed loose pieces of hair behind her ear. “It was lovely to meet you.”

Almost too quickly, she grabbed her bag off the bar and began to make her way back to where she was before. However, before making it too far, she felt a hand grab ahold of her wrist.

He didn’t know why, but when he had seen the fear set in Y/n’s eyes, an overwhelming feeling of guilt set upon him. It was strange—to feel so much of it hit him over one girl’s reaction. He had done this many times to many people, all of which having a moment of complete vulnerability during his encounters with them. But they didn’t necessarily make him feel anything more than the slightest bit of regret.

“Hey,” He whispered softly, gently pulling her back to where he was standing, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

Y/n looked into his eyes as he spoke, giving her the reassurance she needed. He was genuine, she could tell, his eyes screamed sympathy.

“It’s oka—“

“But Zayn is right,” Harry continued, slowly letting her arm go. “You should stay away from me.”

Before she had any time to react, he had walked away from her.

The rest of the night, Y/n was determined to speak to him again. After meeting him for the first time, she had an innumerable amount of questions she pressed Zayn to answer. Why is he always angry? Is he dangerous? But why was he so nice to me when I walked away?

Zayn explained that Harry wasn’t someone she should be concerned about. All he told her was that he had been hurt one too many times and it caused him to become violent towards those who threaten potential pain. He doesn’t apologize to anybody and told her that it was quite strange how he had to her.

Harry couldn’t stop thinking about her. He didn’t know what it was, exactly, that intrigued him so much. Besides the fact she was the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid his eyes on, she was so easy to talk with. She was quiet, and apart of him liked that about her. The moment he hurt her, he just felt so bad, like her saddness was the last thing he ever wanted to see.

Which is why he walked away from her.

When he saw Zayn later that night, he had asked about her. He asked how they had known each other, asked about her life and where she lived. He was determined to know more about her. It wasn’t even that he just wanted to, but it felt like he had to, like he was being compelled to feel this way toward her.

Right as he was about to leave the party, he had heard her voice behind him

“Harry?”

He slowly turned to look at her. She was looking as shy as ever, fingers fiddling together, cheeks blushed, eyes unsure. She didn’t know exactly what she was going to say, but she wanted to try.

“I want to get to know you.” She spoke softly, her hand nervously reaching to her lips.

He swore his heart melted. The second the words fell from her lips, he was willing to do whatever it took to get to know her.

“I know you said I should stay away from you, but I don’t want to."

-

“Harry,” Zayn calls a bit loudly, snapping Harry out of his thoughts, “do you want to talk about it?”

Harry didn’t realize he was near tears until Zayn snapped him out of his trance. And he didn’t look at them as he returns to placing the logs in piles, contemplating whether or not to disregard his statement or not. 

Of course, he wants to talk about how much mental pain he’s in from not being with Y/n anymore, but he just can’t talk about it. They know that, too, because if he were ready, he would have already.

“Can you stop asking about her, please?” He groans, tossing the last piece of wood onto the top of the pile, “I know you guys know, so please, don’t make me say it.”

He doesn’t bother to look at them, instead, wiping off some of the sweat off his forehead with the sleeve of his flannel before making his way inside the house to change out of his sweaty clothes. He didn’t want to seem rude, but he’s completely and utterly broken, if he has to be questioned about her again he swears he’ll actually become ill.

Half-heartedly making his way to the bedroom, Harry opens up the duffle bag that sits on top of the bed, searching through the folded clothes to find his plain gray t-shirt he plans on wearing for later that night. Slipping off his flannel and sliding off the now dirty white tank top underneath, he puts on the t-shirt, throwing the dirty clothes into the laundry bin.

Once changed, Harry begins to unpack the remaining clothes out of his bag. His hands are shaking as he does so, breathing heavy when he sets his clothes down on the bed. His stomach twists with sick at the idea of sleeping in this goddamn room.

This was the first place they made love. It was within the first month of being with each other, filled with beautiful romance and bliss. It was the best night of his life. It was the first time he had touched someone so delicately before—the first time his violent hands spread love throughout her body. 

He said words he never thought he’d say again. Words that he actually fucking meant, words to express how his once cold heart felt warm for what felt like the first time in his life. 

-

It was her first visit to the lake house. She had just finished cleaning up the remaining dishes, insisting that even though she was the guest, she had to contribute to the clean up after having a barbecue. Harry was sitting by the kitchen table, just watching her, observing her as she hummed an unknown tune, her hair messily tied up on her head. He could hear the boys playing poker in the living room, which he would have played if Harry hadn’t already planned on taking Y/n out near the lake after she had finished cleaning up.

“Alright, Harry, all done.” she smiled, “Now what was it you wanted to show me?”

She made her way toward his sitting frame, taking a seat right on top of his lap. Combing her fingers through his hair, she planted a delicate kiss on the tip of his nose, making Harry’s face blush the color of roses. He reached his arms around her waist, nuzzling her body against his.

“Hm,” He hummed, kissing the exposed skin on her shoulder. “Was gonna show you the lake, but almost considering just cuddling you all night long.”

Y/n smiled as Harry leaned in to press a hard kiss against her soft lips. She breathed out heavily through her nose, fingertips moving to caress his cheeks, his unshaved stubble scraping against their pads.

“Gross!” They heard Niall call from the living room, “I call the room farthest from yours!”

They both laughed, Harry rolling his eyes at the comment.

“As fantastic that sounds” Y/n smirked, raking her fingers on his back under his shirt, “this is my first time here, and it’s your birthday weekend. I want to explore it with you.”

She leaned down to quickly peck his chapped lips, which soon turned into a wild smirk. His green eyes looked into her brown ones, his fingers dancing along the nape of her neck.

“I can do that for you.”

Once they were by the lake, they sat in silence together. She was cuddled into him, sitting in between his legs, her head rolled back onto his shoulder, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist. They admired the nature they were surrounded by, overwhelmed by the feeling of each other’s company under the moon. It felt like a dream, every bit of it did. It was such a surreal moment for them. They didn’t need to speak about anything for a while, being this close to each other, feeling each other’s bodies against one another was enough for them. They felt closer than ever.

They kissed, and kissed, and kissed. So much so that Y/n ended up on top of him. Her legs were straddling his waist, hands roaming under his shirt, nails scratching at his ribs. Harry had his hands all in her hair, as if trying to pull her closer to him, as if it were even possible.  Her lips traveled down to his neck, kissing every bit of the exposed skin. She just couldn’t get enough. They both couldn’t.

“Y/n.” Harry whispered.

“I love you, Harry.” She muttered against his skin.

“So in love with you."

It was the first time it was said. They both knew they loved each other once they met. Hell, it was obvious. It didn’t need to be said, but she said it anyways. She said it like she meant it, too, like her heart was blooming as she spoke. God, he even felt her tears against his neck. She was so overwhelmed by their love, the words just slipped out in the moment, but oh how she meant them.

In that moment, he was a weak man. He completely surrendered himself to her love. He was willing for it to have all control over him. He made a promise to himself, to devote his life proving his love for her, proving that he will be the man she deserves in her life, not the man he had other people see.

“Y/n,” he whispers again, fingers gliding down her waist, “I’m so in love with you. I always will be."

That night, once he had taken her to their room, they made love over and over and over again. It was their first time, opening up to each other in a completely different way than they usually did. His lips captured hers perfectly, his hands fit in hers as if they were, quite literally, made for each other. His name became a mantra, her body became a temple. It was an entirely new level of trust. It was a night that they could have re-lived every day for the rest of their lives, easily, with not a complaint in the world.

-

“Fuck” Harry spits, reaching the back of his hand up to eyes in an attempt to wipe the tears threatening to spill.

He can’t sleep in here. There’s no way he could sleep here, not without Y/n. Not without her in his arms, not without making love to her beforehand. His bed at home made him sick enough, but here? He just can’t fathom it.

He begins to shove the clothes he’s started to unpack back into his suitcase. He can’t stay in here another minute. He’ll lose his goddamn mind.

While zipping up his bag, he hears the front door open. Niall’s laugh fills the silence in the house upon his entrance, which gives Harry an idea on how to fix his sleeping situation without raiding the couch.

“Niall!” Harry yells, slinging the bag over his shoulder.

Niall makes his way up the steps toward his voice.

“Yeah?!”

“We’re switching rooms!”

“Oh hell no!”

Niall goes into the room Harry’s in, his face strict and serious.

“You and Y/n have fucked on that bed way too many times. I don’t even think you washed the sheets last time you guys did it on there, either. Pretty sure this room has a permanent stench of sex because of you two.”

Harry’s jaw clenches. Normally, he’d have a rational conversation until he got his way, but he isn’t taking this situation lightly. 

So, instead, he grabs Niall’s wrist harshly, eyes narrowing down at him as he takes a threatening step closer to him.

Niall’s eyes widen as he looks up at him. Not even because a small part of him felt intimidated, but because this is the first time Harry has shown aggression toward anybody within the past couple of months. There is a chance the part he’s been hiding is becoming unleashed, but Niall knows it was easily set off by Harry’s many failed attempts to get Y/n out of his head.

“I don’t think you understand, Niall” Harry seethes, “I may have not laid my hands on anyone in months, but missing Y/n doesn’t only make me sad, it makes me dangerous. I will not hesitate to do whatever it takes to be as far away from this room as possible. Now I will not tell you again, we are switching rooms.”

Niall rips his hand out of Harry’s grip, shaking it around a bit from the amount of pressure Harry was gripping it with.

“Alright, Jesus,” He groans, “but you better wash those fucking sheets. I refuse to sleep in a bed full of sex."

Harry lets out a breath he was holding in, somewhat relieved that he doesn’t have to be spending three nights in his own personal hell. 

Adjusting the strap of his bag onto his shoulder, Harry slowly nods as he continues to look at Niall. He feels bad for treating him in the way he just did, but the idea of becoming more hurt than he already was is something he wouldn’t be able to live with. 

“Yeah, yeah I will.” He mutters. “I’m sorry, by the way, for that. I didn’t want to hurt you, but I can’t be in this room for another second without losing my mind. I really can’t.”

Niall sighs, slowly reaching up to wrap his arms security around Harry. Being like his brother, he really has felt so bad for what he’s been going through. He can’t imagine the heartbreak, or how he’s even surviving the breakup as well as he has. 

Harry reaches his arms around Niall’s body, hugging him back.

“It’s okay, bud. I get it, you don’t have to apologize. I’ll even wash the sheets for you.”

Harry lets out a slight laugh, shaking his head briefly before detaching himself from Niall and making his way into his room.

Once settled, Harry makes his way down to the kitchen to grab a couple of beers and take some time to himself. If this weekend is going to haunt the living shit out of him, he might as well try to make himself relax the slightest bit.

With a bottle of beer held loosely in his hand, he opens the sliding door that leads to the porch. Leaning his body against the doorway, Harry admires the sun setting on the lake, watching as the wind moves the leaves in small dance.

For the first time since the breakup, he actually feels at peace.

“She broke up with you, didn’t she?” Liam asks, suddenly joining Harry on the porch as he sips on a bottle of beer, slinging his arm around Harry’s shoulders.

Harry rolls his eyes, the accusation of her leaving him must have been the topic of all their conversations. 

Of course, that’s what they thought, it must have been so convenient for them to think Y/n could live a great life without him while he would be a danger to the streets. That’s how much he needed her, but they never seemed to notice how much she needed him—not how Harry noticed.

“Why is everyone so convinced that if we were to ever break up, she’d be the one that called it off?” Harry snarls.

“I was the one who ended it.” He continues, “It wasn’t working out.”

He takes a swig from his beer, eyes still trained on the view of the lake. He doesn’t want to continue this conversation—doesn't want to relive the night that tore his life apart. But most of all, he doesn’t want to talk about it here, at this stupid fucking lake house, and have to dwell on the pain he wishes he could erase. He doesn’t want to be reminded that he was the one who did this to them.

“C’mon,” Liam sighs, “She was the only thing you had. She was the only one to get this Harry back. You were just afraid she’d leave you first.”

Harry decides not to answer, not knowing how to respond. Of course, that’s why he ended it—that’s how he operates. He pushes those away just so that nobody pushes him away. 

He could deal with anybody else doing it, but if Y/n had left him first, there was no way he’d ever make it through that. Not a fiber in his body doubts that for even a second.

“Have you spoken to her at all?” Liam breaks the silence.

Harry looks down at his beer, circling it in his hands. Why does he keep asking him questions he clearly doesn’t want to answer?

“She said she never wanted to see me again.” Harry mumbles, “I haven’t spoken to her since she left.”

“Jesus, Harry.” Liam whispers. “Are you okay?”

Something about that question makes something inside of Harry twist. 

Is he okay? How can he be okay? He hasn’t seen the love of his life—hasn’t talked to her, hasn’t even heard the sound of her breathing in months. Every part of his body hurts every time he thinks about her because the feeling of being away from her is the most painful feeling in the world.

His life was consumed by her love. His entire world changed when he met her. Nobody else could he lay his hands so sweetly on, could his voice speak so softly to, could his heart swell so greatly for. She changed him, even though he was too scared to admit it to her, she changed him. She gave him hope—gave him a reason to hold onto himself.

Since she’s left, in times when he’s at his all-time low, all he can think about is how his arms felt holding her, how his lips felt kissing her, how fucking relieving and beautiful it was to talk to her, and how he let all of that go.

How can I be okay?

Tears cloud his vision, his hands begin to shake. Oh, God. He thought he was over this. He thought he was over the emotions, he didn’t deserve them. He did this, he caused all this, this was his decision. Yet here he is, again, fighting back the tears that have been so desperate to be released.

“I mean” Harry begins, his voice shaking as he speaks, “I mean, I fucked up everything. I had everything I ever needed and I was the one who let it go. I was starting to think that her leaving me would be worse but now—”

He’s choking back sobs, face wet with unwelcomed tears, “Now I can’t stop thinking about how much she hates me right now. She has a home without me, she lives her life without me, she is falling asleep at night without me. And the worst part is that she didn’t want it that way. That was all me, everything is because of me!”

Liam rushes to wrap his arms around him, pulling Harry’s head down onto his shoulder so that he has a place to cry. Harry’s holding him like it’s his every last bit of hope, almost as if grasping for reassurance for his relationship with Y/n.

“Harry—” 

“Trust me, Liam, I didn’t want this, either” He continues, words scrambling out of his mouth, “but what else was I supposed to do? And now I’m at this stupid fucking lake house where we talked about getting married and she’s not here with me and I can’t do this anymore!”

He’s completely helpless now. His body is weak, shaking against Liam’s tense frame. He’s in so much pain, so much heartbreak that he’s almost screaming, begging God for some mercy because he can’t take this anymore. The constant thought of her—the constant reminder that he’s never going to see her again rips his heart out every second of every day.

“I just really don’t want to know what it’s like to live another day without her” His voice quivers, “I never do.”

Harry’s wet eyes meet Liam’s sympathetic ones. Liam opens his mouth, preparing to say something, but Harry simply shakes his head. 

He can’t do this anymore. 

He pats Liam’s shoulder—thanking him for being by his side—before turning around to walk away. He slides the glass door open, walking inside the kitchen to replace his now empty bottle of beer with a new one.

“Wait,” Liam mumbles, “Wait, Harry, I have to tell you something.”

Harry stops in his place, slowly turning his body around to look at him. He cocks his head to the side, eyebrows furrowed, seeming confused.

“Y/n, she’s—she’s coming here tonight.”  

#Harry Styles #harry styles one shot #harry one shot #harry styles imagine #harry imagine #harry styles dirty one shot #harry styles preference #harry preference #one shot #one direction #one direction one shots #one direction imagines #one direction dirty one shot #one direction preferences #1d #1d one shot #1d imagine #1d preferences

[icantbelieveitsnotconnor]

4-7-17

      I’m so tired. Tired of being so angry all of the time. Tired of being alone. Tired of having my motives questioned, having what’s left of my heart torn from my chest and being held from me like some fucked up game of monkey in the middle. I’m stuck between wanting to be left alone and feeling as though i need someone in my life. I stay up until around 4 a.m, thinking about what i want and what I need, landing on only one thing. That one thing is however so far out of reach it’s unfathomable. I wish i knew what to do. I’m done feeling sorry for myself. All i want to do is take action, but when ever I begin, I stop myself. I am my own worst enemy.

      Have you ever burnt a bridge without remorse, without fully thinking it through, and still wish you could cross it? You know full well how to swim, however, when you go to take that dive you are so afraid of drowning you immediately forget all of those lessons your parents paid for when you were a kid? Here I stand, watching the bridge burning, flames dancing from board to board, relief directly below, my heart screams to me “Run while you still can” but my legs won’t move. I’m paralyzed by fear, by love, or lack thereof. I watch the bridge slowly collapse and I think to myself “I totally could’ve made that" like when you need to turn left at an intersection and you misjudge a car’s distance to you, so you wait there like a blubbering idiot. Only this time, the left turn is more of a leap, one you can’t come back from, and the lines of cars are never-ending, and there was but one space where you could've made it. Needless to say, I missed my turn. 

      As I sit here on my laptop bitching to a website at 3 in the morning, I find myself wondering why I even bother writing. I know that I have no style, I know that nobody is interested, yet I post this anyways. I think it’s because I’m at least putting myself out there, telling this story of missed opportunity, self hatred, basically miscellaneous bitching and moaning, yet I know that nobody actually reads this garbage, so it sort of reflects who I am. I seclude myself and still hope that somebody is listening, wondering how I’m doing, getting some sense of who I am. 

     For fucks sake, why do I even mean “who I am”? I don’t even know who the fuck I am, how would anybody who stumbles across a blog like this even be able to get a sense of who I am if the person writing this load of bullshit doesn’t even know? While I’m ranting on the subject--story time--I was in a toxic relationship for about four years, and all the while I let myself change who I am, because I wasn’t who she wanted me to be. Who she wanted to be with. That alone should’ve been a red flag, however, I was blinded by “love” and let it keep happening. Now one might think that once the relationship was ended, I’d be able to be who I really am, I’d be able to be happy. Right? 

     Well, dear imaginary reader, You’re technically not wrong; but you aren’t correct either, and here’s why. You see, when I wake up from my glorified nap every morning, I go and I look in the mirror, and who ever is staring back at me is a complete stranger. Do you realize how fucking aggravating that is? Really, aggravating is an understatement. Do you understand how fucked up it is when you don’t even know who you are? Yeah, I realize that I’ve done this to myself, but it doesn’t change the fact that that act of selflessness--in the most literal sense--has quite literally destroyed my life. I have no motivation, I have no spine, I have no one. The one thing that I truly cared about imploded upon itself because of this. I didn’t give my all. 100% of me. simply because I quite literally couldn't. I’m not 100% of a man, I’m not myself because I can barely even begin the journey to find myself between work, college, and hating what I’m left with. 

      The man the girl fell in love with 4 years ago, is dead. The man she left 7  months ago, is dead. The man who remains is a coagulation of alcoholism, nihilism, depression and anger, and he threw away what he had with who could've quite possibly been the most amazing woman He’d ever encountered. His intentions true, his heart damaged, his soul missing. All because he couldn't find a way to get away from the past. All his past selves are dead and gone, why shouldn't the new one join them eh? 

    I like to think its because the new one still has a chance. Right? 

#broken #lost #anger #babbling #why am i like this

[successwize-blog]

New Neuroscience Reveals 3 Secrets That Will Make You Emotionally Intelligent

***

Before we commence with the festivities, I wanted to thank everyone for helping my first book become a Wall Street Journal bestseller. To check it out, click here.

***

Emotional Intelligence. It’s everywhere. They won’t shut up about it. And yet nobody seems to be able to explain what it really means or how you develop it.

Face it: you don’t even know what an emotion is. Most people would say an emotion is a feeling. And what’s a feeling? Umm… an emotion? Yeah, nice work there, Captain Circular.

And it turns out the latest research shows that the little we know about emotions is actually all wrong. And I mean really wrong.

Lisa Feldman Barrett is a Professor of Psychology at Northeastern University, with appointments at Massachusetts General Hospital and Harvard Medical School. Her new book How Emotions Are Made: The Secret Life of the Brain turns everything you know about the feels upside down.

Buckle in. We’re gonna learn the real story behind how emotions work, why they’re so difficult to deal with, and why the secret to emotional intelligence might just be the Merriam-Webster dictionary.

Time to fire up Occam’s chainsaw. Let’s get to work…

Why We’re Wrong About Emotions

Your fundamental emotions are hardwired and universal, right? We all have a crayon box with the same set of colors: anger, fear, happiness, sadness, etc.

And the latest research says that’s all wrong. W-w-w-w-what? You heard me. Actually, some cultures don’t have the full crayon box of emotions.

People in Tahiti don’t have sadness. Yeah, if you lived on a gorgeous island in the Pacific you’d probably feel sadness a lot less often but the Tahitian people literally don’t possess that emotion.

From How Emotions Are Made: The Secret Life of the Brain:

Utka Eskimos have no concept of “Anger.” The Tahitians have no concept of “Sadness.” This last item is very difficult for Westerners to accept… life without sadness? Really? When Tahitians are in a situation that a Westerner would describe as sad, they feel ill, troubled, fatigued, or unenthusiastic, all of which are covered by their broader term pe’ape’a.

And other cultures have crayon colors you and I have never seen before.

From How Emotions Are Made: The Secret Life of the Brain:

Norwegians have a concept for an intense joy of falling in love, calling it “Forelsket.”

Gigil (Filipino): The urge to hug or squeeze something that is unbearably adorable.

The Japanese emotion concept “Arigata-meiwaku” is felt when someone has done you a favor that you didn’t want from them, and which may have caused difficulty for you, but you’re required to be grateful anyway.

I know what many people are thinking: You’re cheating. Wanting to hug Hello Kitty isn’t a real emotion. And pe’ape-whatever is just sadness by another name.

But that’s insisting that emotions are hardwired and universal. And research pretty convincingly shows they’re not.

From How Emotions Are Made: The Secret Life of the Brain:

Where emotions and the autonomic nervous system are concerned, four significant meta-analyses have been conducted in the last two decades, the largest of which covered more than 220 physiology studies and nearly 22,000 test subjects. None of these four meta-analyses found consistent and specific emotion fingerprints in the body.

There is no set crayon box. Emotions aren’t hardwired or universal. They’re concepts that we learn. And so they can differ from culture to culture.

If you think that pe’ape’a and sadness are the same thing, let me ask you a question: would you mistake “regret” for “heartache”? Would you confuse “disappointment” with “mourning”?

I didn’t think so. Could you call them all “sad”? I guess… But would that feel remotely accurate to you? Again, I doubt it.

You don’t feel “Forelsket” for the same reason you don’t speak Norwegian: you were never taught it.

From How Emotions Are Made: The Secret Life of the Brain:

Fago, litost, and the rest are not emotions… to you. That’s because you don’t know these emotion concepts; the associated situations and goals are not important in middle-class American culture. Your brain cannot issue predictions based on “Fago,” so the concept doesn’t feel automatic the way that happiness and sadness do to you… Yes, fago, litost, and the rest are just words made up by people, but so are “happy,” “sad,” “fearful,” “angry,” “disgusted,” and “surprised.”

If you had been raised somewhere different, you might feel something different. Emotions vary between people (do you simmer when you feel angry or do you break furniture?). And they vary dramatically between cultures.

But if you only have concepts for “anger”, “happiness”, and “sadness” then that’s all you’re ever going to see.

Often we pick these concepts up just from living in a culture, others we’re taught explicitly as children. And they’re transmitted from one person to the next, from one generation to the next.

When we experience a sensation, an emotion concept is triggered like a memory and actually constructed by the brain. It’s nearly immediate and you’re largely unaware of the process.

From How Emotions Are Made: The Secret Life of the Brain:

I felt sadness in that moment because, having been raised in a certain culture, I learned long ago that “sadness” is something that may occur when certain bodily feelings coincide with terrible loss. Using bits and pieces of past experience, such as my knowledge of shootings and my previous sadness about them, my brain rapidly predicted what my body should do to cope with such tragedy. Its predictions caused my thumping heart, my flushed face, and the knots in my stomach. They directed me to cry, an action that would calm my nervous system. And they made the resulting sensations meaningful as an instance of sadness. In this manner, my brain constructed my experience of emotion.

(To learn more about the science of a successful life, check out my new book here.)

So now you know how emotions work. And that leads us to how we can develop that fabled “emotional intelligence” everyone keeps yammering about. So what’s the first step?

1) Emotional Intelligence Starts With Emotional Granularity

It’s a big understatement to say that if the only emotion concepts you recognize are “me feel good” and “me feel bad” you’re not going to be very emotionally intelligent.

I see red, blue and green. An interior decorator sees periwinkle, salmon, sage, magenta and cyan. (And that is only one of many reasons you don’t want me decorating your house.)

The more time you take to distinguish the emotions you feel, to recognize them as distinct and different, the more emotionally intelligent you will become. This is called “emotional granularity.”

From How Emotions Are Made: The Secret Life of the Brain:

So, a key to EI is to gain new emotion concepts and hone your existing ones.

Similar to the interior decorator, emotionally intelligent people don’t say “me feel good.” They distinguish between happy, ecstatic, joyful and awesome.

They’re like the oenophiles of emotions: This sadness is bittersweet, with fine notes of despondency and an aftertaste of lingering regret.

From How Emotions Are Made: The Secret Life of the Brain:

…if you could distinguish finer meanings within “Awesome” (happy, content, thrilled, relaxed, joyful, hopeful, inspired, prideful, adoring, grateful, blissful.. .), and fifty shades of “Crappy” (angry, aggravated, alarmed, spiteful, grumpy, remorseful, gloomy, mortified, uneasy, dread-ridden, resentful, afraid, envious, woeful, melancholy.. .), your brain would have many more options for predicting, categorizing, and perceiving emotion, providing you with the tools for more flexible and functional responses.

And the people who won’t shut up about the importance of EI are right. Having lower emotional granularity is associated with a lot of bad things — like emotional and personality disorders.

From How Emotions Are Made: The Secret Life of the Brain:

People who have major depressive disorder, social anxiety disorder, eating disorders, autism spectrum disorders, borderline personality disorder, or who just experience more anxiety and depressed feelings all tend to exhibit lower granularity for negative emotion.

More importantly, when you’re able to finely discern what you’re feeling, you’re able to do something constructive to deal with the problems causing them.

If the only negative emotion concept you have is “me feel bad” you’re going to have a difficult time making yourself feel better. So you’ll resort to ineffective coping methods like, oh, bourbon.

Note: The results of my exceedingly thorough study on the topic of bourbon as an ineffective emotional coping technique (n=1) will be forthcoming.

But if you’re able to distinguish the more specific “I feel alone” from merely “me feel bad” you’re able to deal with the problem: you call a friend.

And having a higher level of emotional granularity leads to good things in life.

From How Emotions Are Made: The Secret Life of the Brain:

Higher emotional granularity has other benefits for a satisfying life. In a collection of scientific studies, people who could distinguish finely among their unpleasant feelings— those “fifty shades of feeling crappy”— were 30 percent more flexible when regulating their emotions, less likely to drink excessively when stressed, and less likely to retaliate aggressively against someone who has hurt them.

(To learn 6 rituals from ancient wisdom that will make you happy, click here.)

Okay, so you’re taking the time to distinguish your feelings. You’re going from white belt “me feel bad” to black belt “I am consumed by ennui.” Great. How do you take it to the next level?

2) Emotional Intelligence Is In The Dictionary

I don’t mean you can find the word “emotional intelligence” in the dictionary. Well, yeah, you can, but that’s not what I mean. I mean a dictionary can actually help you develop emotional intelligence.

If you don’t know what “ennui” means, you’re not going to be able to distinguish it. Learning more emotion words is the key to recognizing more subtle emotion concepts.

From How Emotions Are Made: The Secret Life of the Brain:

You’ve probably never thought about learning words as a path to greater emotional health, but it follows directly from the neuroscience of construction. Words seed your concepts, concepts drive your predictions, predictions regulate your body budget, and your body budget determines how you feel. Therefore, the more finely grained your vocabulary, the more precisely your predicting brain can calibrate your budget to your body’s needs. In fact, people who exhibit higher emotional granularity go to the doctor less frequently, use medication less frequently, and spend fewer days hospitalized for illness.

Now being a Scrabble champ, by itself, doesn’t necessarily make you emotionally intelligent. You still need to sit with your emotions and spend the time to distinguish them and label them.

So are you angry, furious, or just cranky? Recognize your emotions. Make the feelings distinct.

(To learn the 4 rituals neuroscience says will make you happy, click here.)

But what if the dictionary ain’t cutting it? What if no word does justice to something you feel on a regular basis?

No problem. Emotions aren’t hardwired. They’re concepts. And that means something really, really cool: you can make your own…

3) Create New Emotions

I know, sounds crazy. But Lisa Feldman Barrett says this is another excellent way to increase emotional intelligence. And it’s not as hard as you think.

Ever feel “out of it” or just “off”? You had sensations but no concept bucket that “fit” them. So your brain shrugged and threw it in the “miscellaneous” pile.

So give those feelings a name. That dread you feel on Sunday night knowing you need to go to work tomorrow? “Sunday-nitis.” Or that special something that you feel around your partner? “Passion-o-rama.”

Those are unique sensations. Give them an emotion. Learn to distinguish them from the other forms of dread or elation.

Yeah, it might feel a little silly at first but don’t let that hold you back. In Japan they have “age-otori” — “The feeling of looking worse after a haircut.” We’ve all felt that. It just took one emotionally intelligent genius to give it a name. Be that genius.

And if you want to make it more real: share the emotion with someone. Tell your partner the name of that unique feeling they give you. Maybe they feel it too.

Happiness and sadness and even “age-otori” are all constructed concepts. They become real because we have agreed on them with others. Dollars are just green paper rectangles — until we all agree they have value.

Add new colors to your emotional crayon box and you can draw a better emotional life for yourself — and others.

(To learn how to make friends as an adult, click here.)

Alright, we’ve learned a lot about emotional intelligence. Or emotional smarts. Or emotional genius. (Hey, words matter. Make distinctions.) Let’s round it all up and find out the best way to get started…

Sum Up

Here’s how to be more emotionally intelligent:

Emotions are concepts: They’re not hardwired or universal. They’re learned.

Emotional intelligence starts with emotional granularity: If your doctor came back with a diagnosis of “you’re sick”, you’d sue the quack for malpractice. Doctors need to be able to distinguish between “chancre” and “cancer.” And you need to know the difference between “sad” and “lonely.”

Emotional intelligence is in the dictionary: You can’t feel Fremdschämen if you don’t know what it is. So learn new emotion words so you can feel new emotions and increase your emotional granularity.

Create new emotions: We could all use a little more “passion-o-rama” in our lives. Name those unnamed feelings you have and share them with others to make them real.

I post on this blog weekly. I have not missed a week for the eight years this blog has been in existence. But I have not posted anything new in a month. Because *I* have been dealing with some very icky emotions.

To all who reached out to me, I offer you a heartfelt thanks. (And Jason, Lisa, Jodie, Debbie and Trisha all get gold stars for going above and beyond the call of duty.)

The specifics of how I have been feeling is of little consequence. But the emotion I am feeling now may be of some use to you: I feel “gratitudinous.”

Yeah, that’s my own new emotion. Because “grateful” just ain’t gonna cut it.

Grateful is how you feel when someone loans you a dollar. Gratitudinous has awe. It’s when you get help you didn’t expect. At levels you didn’t think were possible. And from people who, frankly, you piss off with frightening regularity.

Gratitudinous also has hope and optimism in its recipe in a way grateful doesn’t. Autocorrect doesn’t like it much, but it works for me just fine. I’ve shared it with you. That makes it real.

What’s the emotion that describes how you feel around the people closest to you? Don’t reply with one word. I want a concept. A constellation of feelings. Give it a name.

Share this post with those people and tell them your new emotion. The utterly unique way they make you feel. Hopefully it will become a word you use regularly.

Emotions are fleeting. But they are unavoidable and they are the most human of all things. They are not universals; they are arbitrary. But if we feel them deeply and we share them with others, nothing in this life is more real.

Join over 315,000 readers. Get a free weekly update via email here.

Related posts:

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Posted On: August 30, 2017

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[djsamaha-blog]

New Neuroscience Reveals 3 Secrets That Will Make You Emotionally Intelligent

***

Before we commence with the festivities, I wanted to thank everyone for helping my first book become a Wall Street Journal bestseller. To check it out, click here.

***

Emotional Intelligence. It’s everywhere. They won’t shut up about it. And yet nobody seems to be able to explain what it really means or how you develop it.

Face it: you don’t even know what an emotion is. Most people would say an emotion is a feeling. And what’s a feeling? Umm… an emotion? Yeah, nice work there, Captain Circular.

And it turns out the latest research shows that the little we know about emotions is actually all wrong. And I mean really wrong.

Lisa Feldman Barrett is a Professor of Psychology at Northeastern University, with appointments at Massachusetts General Hospital and Harvard Medical School. Her new book How Emotions Are Made: The Secret Life of the Brain turns everything you know about the feels upside down.

Buckle in. We’re gonna learn the real story behind how emotions work, why they’re so difficult to deal with, and why the secret to emotional intelligence might just be the Merriam-Webster dictionary.

Time to fire up Occam’s chainsaw. Let’s get to work…

Why We’re Wrong About Emotions

Your fundamental emotions are hardwired and universal, right? We all have a crayon box with the same set of colors: anger, fear, happiness, sadness, etc.

And the latest research says that’s all wrong. W-w-w-w-what? You heard me. Actually, some cultures don’t have the full crayon box of emotions.

People in Tahiti don’t have sadness. Yeah, if you lived on a gorgeous island in the Pacific you’d probably feel sadness a lot less often but the Tahitian people literally don’t possess that emotion.

From How Emotions Are Made: The Secret Life of the Brain:

Utka Eskimos have no concept of “Anger.” The Tahitians have no concept of “Sadness.” This last item is very difficult for Westerners to accept… life without sadness? Really? When Tahitians are in a situation that a Westerner would describe as sad, they feel ill, troubled, fatigued, or unenthusiastic, all of which are covered by their broader term pe’ape’a.

And other cultures have crayon colors you and I have never seen before.

From How Emotions Are Made: The Secret Life of the Brain:

Norwegians have a concept for an intense joy of falling in love, calling it “Forelsket.”

Gigil (Filipino): The urge to hug or squeeze something that is unbearably adorable.

The Japanese emotion concept “Arigata-meiwaku” is felt when someone has done you a favor that you didn’t want from them, and which may have caused difficulty for you, but you’re required to be grateful anyway.

I know what many people are thinking: You’re cheating. Wanting to hug Hello Kitty isn’t a real emotion. And pe’ape-whatever is just sadness by another name.

But that’s insisting that emotions are hardwired and universal. And research pretty convincingly shows they’re not.

From How Emotions Are Made: The Secret Life of the Brain:

Where emotions and the autonomic nervous system are concerned, four significant meta-analyses have been conducted in the last two decades, the largest of which covered more than 220 physiology studies and nearly 22,000 test subjects. None of these four meta-analyses found consistent and specific emotion fingerprints in the body.

There is no set crayon box. Emotions aren’t hardwired or universal. They’re concepts that we learn. And so they can differ from culture to culture.

If you think that pe’ape’a and sadness are the same thing, let me ask you a question: would you mistake “regret” for “heartache”? Would you confuse “disappointment” with “mourning”?

I didn’t think so. Could you call them all “sad”? I guess… But would that feel remotely accurate to you? Again, I doubt it.

You don’t feel “Forelsket” for the same reason you don’t speak Norwegian: you were never taught it.

From How Emotions Are Made: The Secret Life of the Brain:

Fago, litost, and the rest are not emotions… to you. That’s because you don’t know these emotion concepts; the associated situations and goals are not important in middle-class American culture. Your brain cannot issue predictions based on “Fago,” so the concept doesn’t feel automatic the way that happiness and sadness do to you… Yes, fago, litost, and the rest are just words made up by people, but so are “happy,” “sad,” “fearful,” “angry,” “disgusted,” and “surprised.”

If you had been raised somewhere different, you might feel something different. Emotions vary between people (do you simmer when you feel angry or do you break furniture?). And they vary dramatically between cultures.

But if you only have concepts for “anger”, “happiness”, and “sadness” then that’s all you’re ever going to see.

Often we pick these concepts up just from living in a culture, others we’re taught explicitly as children. And they’re transmitted from one person to the next, from one generation to the next.

When we experience a sensation, an emotion concept is triggered like a memory and actually constructed by the brain. It’s nearly immediate and you’re largely unaware of the process.

From How Emotions Are Made: The Secret Life of the Brain:

I felt sadness in that moment because, having been raised in a certain culture, I learned long ago that “sadness” is something that may occur when certain bodily feelings coincide with terrible loss. Using bits and pieces of past experience, such as my knowledge of shootings and my previous sadness about them, my brain rapidly predicted what my body should do to cope with such tragedy. Its predictions caused my thumping heart, my flushed face, and the knots in my stomach. They directed me to cry, an action that would calm my nervous system. And they made the resulting sensations meaningful as an instance of sadness. In this manner, my brain constructed my experience of emotion.

(To learn more about the science of a successful life, check out my new book here.)

So now you know how emotions work. And that leads us to how we can develop that fabled “emotional intelligence” everyone keeps yammering about. So what’s the first step?

1) Emotional Intelligence Starts With Emotional Granularity

It’s a big understatement to say that if the only emotion concepts you recognize are “me feel good” and “me feel bad” you’re not going to be very emotionally intelligent.

I see red, blue and green. An interior decorator sees periwinkle, salmon, sage, magenta and cyan. (And that is only one of many reasons you don’t want me decorating your house.)

The more time you take to distinguish the emotions you feel, to recognize them as distinct and different, the more emotionally intelligent you will become. This is called “emotional granularity.”

From How Emotions Are Made: The Secret Life of the Brain:

So, a key to EI is to gain new emotion concepts and hone your existing ones.

Similar to the interior decorator, emotionally intelligent people don’t say “me feel good.” They distinguish between happy, ecstatic, joyful and awesome.

They’re like the oenophiles of emotions: This sadness is bittersweet, with fine notes of despondency and an aftertaste of lingering regret.

From How Emotions Are Made: The Secret Life of the Brain:

…if you could distinguish finer meanings within “Awesome” (happy, content, thrilled, relaxed, joyful, hopeful, inspired, prideful, adoring, grateful, blissful.. .), and fifty shades of “Crappy” (angry, aggravated, alarmed, spiteful, grumpy, remorseful, gloomy, mortified, uneasy, dread-ridden, resentful, afraid, envious, woeful, melancholy.. .), your brain would have many more options for predicting, categorizing, and perceiving emotion, providing you with the tools for more flexible and functional responses.

And the people who won’t shut up about the importance of EI are right. Having lower emotional granularity is associated with a lot of bad things — like emotional and personality disorders.

From How Emotions Are Made: The Secret Life of the Brain:

People who have major depressive disorder, social anxiety disorder, eating disorders, autism spectrum disorders, borderline personality disorder, or who just experience more anxiety and depressed feelings all tend to exhibit lower granularity for negative emotion.

More importantly, when you’re able to finely discern what you’re feeling, you’re able to do something constructive to deal with the problems causing them.

If the only negative emotion concept you have is “me feel bad” you’re going to have a difficult time making yourself feel better. So you’ll resort to ineffective coping methods like, oh, bourbon.

Note: The results of my exceedingly thorough study on the topic of bourbon as an ineffective emotional coping technique (n=1) will be forthcoming.

But if you’re able to distinguish the more specific “I feel alone” from merely “me feel bad” you’re able to deal with the problem: you call a friend.

And having a higher level of emotional granularity leads to good things in life.

From How Emotions Are Made: The Secret Life of the Brain:

Higher emotional granularity has other benefits for a satisfying life. In a collection of scientific studies, people who could distinguish finely among their unpleasant feelings— those “fifty shades of feeling crappy”— were 30 percent more flexible when regulating their emotions, less likely to drink excessively when stressed, and less likely to retaliate aggressively against someone who has hurt them.

(To learn 6 rituals from ancient wisdom that will make you happy, click here.)

Okay, so you’re taking the time to distinguish your feelings. You’re going from white belt “me feel bad” to black belt “I am consumed by ennui.” Great. How do you take it to the next level?

2) Emotional Intelligence Is In The Dictionary

I don’t mean you can find the word “emotional intelligence” in the dictionary. Well, yeah, you can, but that’s not what I mean. I mean a dictionary can actually help you develop emotional intelligence.

If you don’t know what “ennui” means, you’re not going to be able to distinguish it. Learning more emotion words is the key to recognizing more subtle emotion concepts.

From How Emotions Are Made: The Secret Life of the Brain:

You’ve probably never thought about learning words as a path to greater emotional health, but it follows directly from the neuroscience of construction. Words seed your concepts, concepts drive your predictions, predictions regulate your body budget, and your body budget determines how you feel. Therefore, the more finely grained your vocabulary, the more precisely your predicting brain can calibrate your budget to your body’s needs. In fact, people who exhibit higher emotional granularity go to the doctor less frequently, use medication less frequently, and spend fewer days hospitalized for illness.

Now being a Scrabble champ, by itself, doesn’t necessarily make you emotionally intelligent. You still need to sit with your emotions and spend the time to distinguish them and label them.

So are you angry, furious, or just cranky? Recognize your emotions. Make the feelings distinct.

(To learn the 4 rituals neuroscience says will make you happy, click here.)

But what if the dictionary ain’t cutting it? What if no word does justice to something you feel on a regular basis?

No problem. Emotions aren’t hardwired. They’re concepts. And that means something really, really cool: you can make your own…

3) Create New Emotions

I know, sounds crazy. But Lisa Feldman Barrett says this is another excellent way to increase emotional intelligence. And it’s not as hard as you think.

Ever feel “out of it” or just “off”? You had sensations but no concept bucket that “fit” them. So your brain shrugged and threw it in the “miscellaneous” pile.

So give those feelings a name. That dread you feel on Sunday night knowing you need to go to work tomorrow? “Sunday-nitis.” Or that special something that you feel around your partner? “Passion-o-rama.”

Those are unique sensations. Give them an emotion. Learn to distinguish them from the other forms of dread or elation.

Yeah, it might feel a little silly at first but don’t let that hold you back. In Japan they have “age-otori” — “The feeling of looking worse after a haircut.” We’ve all felt that. It just took one emotionally intelligent genius to give it a name. Be that genius.

And if you want to make it more real: share the emotion with someone. Tell your partner the name of that unique feeling they give you. Maybe they feel it too.

Happiness and sadness and even “age-otori” are all constructed concepts. They become real because we have agreed on them with others. Dollars are just green paper rectangles — until we all agree they have value.

Add new colors to your emotional crayon box and you can draw a better emotional life for yourself — and others.

(To learn how to make friends as an adult, click here.)

Alright, we’ve learned a lot about emotional intelligence. Or emotional smarts. Or emotional genius. (Hey, words matter. Make distinctions.) Let’s round it all up and find out the best way to get started…

Sum Up

Here’s how to be more emotionally intelligent:

Emotions are concepts: They’re not hardwired or universal. They’re learned.

Emotional intelligence starts with emotional granularity: If your doctor came back with a diagnosis of “you’re sick”, you’d sue the quack for malpractice. Doctors need to be able to distinguish between “chancre” and “cancer.” And you need to know the difference between “sad” and “lonely.”

Emotional intelligence is in the dictionary: You can’t feel Fremdschämen if you don’t know what it is. So learn new emotion words so you can feel new emotions and increase your emotional granularity.

Create new emotions: We could all use a little more “passion-o-rama” in our lives. Name those unnamed feelings you have and share them with others to make them real.

I post on this blog weekly. I have not missed a week for the eight years this blog has been in existence. But I have not posted anything new in a month. Because *I* have been dealing with some very icky emotions.

To all who reached out to me, I offer you a heartfelt thanks. (And Jason, Lisa, Jodie, Debbie and Trisha all get gold stars for going above and beyond the call of duty.)

The specifics of how I have been feeling is of little consequence. But the emotion I am feeling now may be of some use to you: I feel “gratitudinous.”

Yeah, that’s my own new emotion. Because “grateful” just ain’t gonna cut it.

Grateful is how you feel when someone loans you a dollar. Gratitudinous has awe. It’s when you get help you didn’t expect. At levels you didn’t think were possible. And from people who, frankly, you piss off with frightening regularity.

Gratitudinous also has hope and optimism in its recipe in a way grateful doesn’t. Autocorrect doesn’t like it much, but it works for me just fine. I’ve shared it with you. That makes it real.

What’s the emotion that describes how you feel around the people closest to you? Don’t reply with one word. I want a concept. A constellation of feelings. Give it a name.

Share this post with those people and tell them your new emotion. The utterly unique way they make you feel. Hopefully it will become a word you use regularly.

Emotions are fleeting. But they are unavoidable and they are the most human of all things. They are not universals; they are arbitrary. But if we feel them deeply and we share them with others, nothing in this life is more real.

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Posted On: August 30, 2017

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[thedailyjournalist-blog]

Mental health and Indian education.

Student suicides are at an alarming and disturbing high in India. Since the past few years India has lost as many as 50,000 students to suicide and every year the numbers are only increasing. We are losing our children, our students, and our talent because in our country children are helplessly cornered and misled into pursuits that are otherwise unyielding or unwished for. Our children are placed in an environment so narrow and restricted that they do not see there is more to life than being Doctors or Engineers. Children are made to submit to a totalitarian educational system where a syllabus dictates what they’re going to do later in life, giving them a very small chance to really expose themselves to their passions. This leads to the abstraction of the mind, giving children a limited clarity of perception of their ambitions; And when they see and know what they want to do, it’s too late. They feel it is in their best interests to accept what life has given them, regardless of the fact that if they want it or not. Or even sometimes the monotone of ambition leaves them in an empty space, where boredom starts to seep in. With the arrival of boredom, comes the arrival of hopelessness. This deprivation of hope further leads to aggravated agony and grief, which is the perfect recipe for disaster.

There’s a single biggest contributor to these students suicides which is shrugged off by society as a weakness or an inability to deal with problems & that is depression. Depression is not seen as a mental health issue by the people around us, rather they believe it’s a euphemism for being lazy, an excuse for not wanting to do any work. Depression takes away the very essence of happiness. It makes a person an entity so disconnected with the world that everything seems of no value. It takes away the life in you, it takes away your right to enjoy a good song, a good book, or even a chocolate! It mentally destroys a person and makes him/her a ticking time bomb wanting to explode at any second. When this absolute grief manifests a person, he/she start turning to alcohol and drugs as they provide instant gratification, although essentially limited. But these sources of instant gratification soon turn into compulsive dependencies and consequently into addictions. Many say that “Oh he’s got everything, why is he depressed?” What people do not understand is that depression doesn’t come to you due to the lack of a materialistic desire, but the lack of direction and the embodiment of boredom by the mind.

But what does our society do for them? Nothing. Depression is treated with such naïvety in India that when I told my parents about mine, my mom rushed to a pundit first thing in the morning! People battling depression are left alone and helpless. Sometimes all they need is a person they can talk to and trust, but if they have no people they can talk to and trust then all they can do is be alone. And being alone in a depressed state is like opening pandora’s box. You invite a plethora of disturbing thoughts into your mind, which are upsetting and scary. You can fall victim to random suicidal triggers due to depression. Even the slightest amount of pain can take the person go to extreme lengths! Saying that it requires a strong person to get out of depression is an understatement. It requires someone with a humongous willpower and strength to overcome depression. Depression is a silent killer with no external traits, it decimates you emotionally & mentally. How many more of our children are we going to let be prey to this murderous mental illness?

It is my request to Parents, Teachers, Students everywhere in the world. Please talk to each other. Ask people how their day is going. Ask your friends what their aspirations are. Ask your children how they emotionally are. Ask your students what they really want. Tell children to pursue their passions with the utmost fire in their hearts.

Just remember to “Ask” before it’s too late.

#mental health #education #india #journalism #awareness