#bipolar fics

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hi friend! Do you have any fics that have Sherlock with bpd, and NOT just other disorders like sociopathy? Thanks a lot Xx

Hi Nonny!

I've only got a couple of fics tagged on my MFL list with "bipolar":

Save Me or Let Me Drown by GubraithianFire(E, 72,986 w., 16 Ch. || Shameless AU || Dysfunctional Family, Alcoholism, Recreational Drug Use, Angst, Humour, Clubbing, Bipolar Disorder, Custody Battle, Mutual Pining, Family Fluff, Smut, Handcuffs, Anal Sex, Shower Sex, Rimming, Come Shot, Angst With Happy Ending) – How Sherlock escaped from his family, John sacrificed everything to his, and how, together, they built their own. Part 1 of the The Watsons series

Four Corners of the Western World Series by pennypaperbrain (E, 100,490 w. across 5 works) – Bipolar Disorder, Guns, Minor Character Death, Post-TRF, BDSM, Dom!John, Sub!Sherlock, Mental Health Issues, Depression, Mania, Suicidal Thoughts, Psychological Drama) – Undercover after Reichenbach, tracking the snipers who threatened his friends, Sherlock has one thing left he can depend on: his mind. But when he faces making his first kill, alone among the mad excesses of Las Vegas, the pressure turns out to be greater than even he can endure without John beside him.

=====

But I also have some with the semi-similar tag of Asperger's... I KNOW they're not the same though I think they will be close to what you're looking for.

APOLOGIES if I erred in a recommendation. I don't know a lot about BPD and only mean to rec stories:

The Crossed Wires of Sherlock Holmes by jackotah (T, 3,101 w., 1 Ch. || Autistic / Asperger’s Sherlock, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Sick Fic, Fluff, Allusions to Past Abuse / Alcoholism, Injury, Caring John) – Sherlock's eyes flicked up to his with intention. The action always made something inside of John flinch. It didn't come naturally or comfortably for Sherlock, that much was clear. It was a very carefully learned skill, and Sherlock could wield it like a weapon.

The Rainbow Connection by honeybee_motorcyles (M, 13,161 w., 7 Ch. || Post-TRF, Autistic Sherlock, American Road Trip, Understanding, Communication, PTSD Sherlock, Regression, Aspergers, Angst and Fluff) – A Road Trip is the best cure for Sherlock and John's relationship.

Nothing Made Me Series by jackotah (E, 18,323+ w. across 8 works || Series WiP || Autistic / Asperger’s Sherlock, Injury, Fluff, Allusions to Past Abuse, Developing Relationship) – Sherlock's eyes flicked up to his with intention. The action always made something inside of John flinch. It didn't come naturally or comfortably for Sherlock, that much was clear. It was a very carefully learned skill, and Sherlock could wield it like a weapon.

A Penny Dreadful by Popcornjones (E, 36,551 w., 12 Ch. || Post-S3, Fluff, Angst, References to Drugs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Memory Loss, Asperger's Sherlock, Hurt/Comfort, Asexual Sherlock, Bottom Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Established Relationship, Top John, Bisexual John, Friendship, Angry John, John-centric) – John wakes in hospital having lost his memory – how does Sherlock explain their life together? "...he was tall. OF COURSE he was tall. Why couldn't John have a short boyfriend?! (Or a girlfriend! John thought rebelliously. Why couldn't I wake up with a beautiful woman telling me we were TOGETHER together?!)" A little bit of everything - hurt John, action John, soft John, wanker John, their first time together, the (hopefully not) last time they were together, the whole love story we all love so much and the truth about Major Sholto.

Pain Management 2 by TheGracefulBlueCat (M, 44,610+ w., 16/? Ch. || WiP || S4 Canon Compliant, Missing Scenes, Hurt Sherlock, Hurt John, Hospitals, Drug Use, Self-Harm, Doctor John, High  Sherlock, Bed Sharing, Crying, Asperger’s / Autism Spectrum Sherlock, Dissociation, Forehead Touching, Friendship) – These are missing scenes from Season 4. This one deals with mental and physical agony, guilt, distress and sorrow. Pain-centric missing scenes. Part 3 of the Pain Management & Missing Scenes series

A Goose Quill Dipped in Venom by Polyphony (M, 52,748 w., 16 Ch. || Celebrity John AU || Alternate First Meeting, TV Host John, Supermodel Mary, Character Death, Mystery, Romance, Case Fic, First Kiss/Time, Meddling Mycroft, Drug Abuse, Doctor John, PDA, Deductions, POV Sherlock, Toplock, Sexual Tension, Angry/Rough Sex, Hopeful Ending, Asperger’s Sherlock) – Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective, is called in to a very ordinary although brutal murder. Something is badly out of tune with the whole scenario and Sherlock finds himself becoming more and more obsessed with the crime - and also with the victim.

To Be Human by ohlooktheresabee (NR, 78,437 w., 13 Ch. || Post-THoB, Graphic Violence, Synesthesia, Case Fic, Serial Killers, Kidnapping, BAMF John, Sherlock is a Mess, Asexuality/Demisexuality, Torture, Protective John, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Medical Procedures, Queerplatonic Relationships, Asperger Syndrome, Thriller, Insecure Sherlock, Touching, Caring John, Affection, Hurt Sherlock, Touch Starvation) – There is a serial killer on the loose with a penchant for collecting the brains of his victims. Sherlock, John and Scotland Yard are on the case, but something about the chosen victims has Sherlock on edge. While they piece together the clues that will lead to the killer, John begins to realize that the way his best friend thinks may sometimes be more a hindrance than a help...

A Long Walk Down a Dusty Road by sgam76(T, 143,091 w., 49 Ch. || S4 Fix It, OMC, Holmes Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues, Implied / Referenced Alcohol Abuse, Psychological Trauma, Implied Child Abuse, Anger Management, Aftermath / Recovery, Autistic / Asperger’s Sherlock, Angst, Mind Control) – John Watson has survived bad parents, war, tragedy and Sherlock Holmes. He's damaged, and freely admits it--admits that, often, his coping mechanisms have been almost as bad as the things that made them necessary. Some of it is his own fault--but some of it isn't. And some of it makes John dangerous, to his friends and to himself. Part 7 of Scheherezade 'verse

The Chemist by TheGracefulBlueCat (M, 158,385 w., 46/? Ch. || WiP || TLD Fix-It, Drug Use and Withdrawal, Hurt/Comfort, Doctor John, Protective Mycroft, Sick Sherlock, Medical Procedures, Grief/Mourning, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Nightmares, Mental Health Issues, Victorian Sherlock, Asperger’s Sherlock, Sherlock Is Not Okay, Papa Lestrade, Drunkenness, Autistic Sherlock, Synesthesia, Insecure Sherlock, Angst, Sick Fic, Case Fic, Asylums) – Sherlock returns to Baker Street and faces detox. But he feels too exhausted and bad to go through it fully conscious, so he - once more - uses his mind palace to distract him with an old case. But due to his drug issues and the tension between him and John things don’t work as smoothly as everyone hoped they would, confronting Sherlock and all his friends with more of their demons than they would have liked to.

Define Vulnerabilty by TheGracefulBlueCat (T, 240,606 w. 97 Ch. || Canon Compliant, Aftermath of Torture, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Scars, Sherlock's Violin, Doctor John, John is a Good Friend, Flashbacks, Case Fic, Sedation, Sherlock is a Mess / Not Okay, Nightmares, Big Brother Mycroft, Asperger's Sherlock, Fainting, Sherlock's Mind Palace, Triggers, Panic Attacks, Hurt Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation, Blood and Gore, Drugs / Drug Use, Helpless / Vulnerable Sherlock, Protective John, Painful Repressed Memories, PTSD Sherlock, Medical Procedures, Drugged Lestrade, Lestrade Whump, Drugged Sherlock, Recovery, Crying Sherlock, Dissociation, Forehead Touching) – Shortly after Sherlock's return John realises something is very wrong with his friend. He, Greg and Mycroft try to help Sherlock as he falls deeper and deeper into the abyss called PTSD. But Sherlock is not ready to allow anyone in, but then the events of the current case cause him to hit bottom hard. Part 8 of the Lessons in Friendship series, Part 1 of the Hiatus series

====

PLEASE if you guys have any BPD fics for Nonny, please let me know!!! I would love to suggest them!

[thelostconsultant]

Lunch with a stranger

pairing: Charles Leclerc x female reader

summary: You've seen Charles before, but it's only when he interrupts your lunch when you exchange more than one word.

You were so lost in the screen of your phone that you didn't even notice the furry baby shark approaching you.

As you sat at a table on the street with a glass of ice cold lemonade and some snacks serving as your lunch, you talked to your friends in a group chat to arrange your plans for the weekend. Brunch in the morning, beauty salon before lunch, then a quick shopping trip in the afternoon.

And then you felt it; sharp teeth gently nipped the skin on your calf until they were replaced by the little creature's tongue as it licked your leg. You leaned to the side to see the criminal under the table and saw an adorable little puppy who looked surprisingly excited to see you.

But why did it look familiar? You could have sworn you had seen this dog before, and not just once, yet your mind couldn't put the pieces together to help you out. Then you noticed the leash and followed the thin line to the owner. A familiar face. That explained everything.

“I'm sorry, he likes to make friends,” the guy said with a sheepish grin.

You waved your hand in a way to tell him it was no problem, then returned your attention to your phone and lunch, expecting him to move on. But he didn't. Out of the corner of your eye you saw him pick up the dog and take the seat across from you.

“I'm Charles, by the way,” he said.

Nodding, you took a sip of your drink, enjoying the way it cooled you down from the inside. “I know. Our nation's greatest hero as of now.”

You didn't want to talk to anyone today, especially not to someone you knew from your psychologist's office, but he seemed really determined to get more than a few words out of you. You had never spoken to each other more than politely greeting the other, and honestly, you didn't even think he would remember you.

But he did, apparently. He waved over the waitress to come and take his order, ignoring your silent protest, then looked at you with an intrigued glint in his eyes. “So you watch F1?” he asked casually.

“I watch the Monaco GP since all I have to do is go out to my balcony, but that's the most I see from it,” you replied, not missing the disappointed look that crossed his face. But he didn't say anything, he just scratched his dog’s soft spot behind his ear. “What?”

Charles looked up with a questioning hum. “What what?” You rolled your eyes, but since the waitress had just arrived with his order, you didn't want to go into the details. “Okay, look,” he began once you were alone again, “I just… I see you at Dr. Brezzo’s office whenever I can go on my normal schedule, but we never have the chance to talk. So when Leo found you, I thought I should take this chance.”

He seemed like such a sweet guy, but at the moment you didn't need new people in your life, especially not ones who lived in the spotlight. You just wanted to have some quiet and peaceful months until your meds kicked in, until you were finally back to normal. You'd been doing great, it would have been a shame to risk it.

But when you opened your mouth to tell him you weren't interested in this chat, he gave you the damn puppy eyes as if he had known what you wanted to say. With a sigh, you nodded and stuffed a forkful of salad in your mouth. He waited patiently, even began eating his own food while making sure he gave his dog a bite so he wouldn't be left out.

“You look tired,” you noted, earning a surprised look from him. “A friend of mine is a huge F1 fan and he told me about how terrible things have been for you. I'm sorry. Is that why you need therapy? No, wait, don't answer this, it's too personal. Let's talk about something else.”

For a while he was just watching you with a barely visible smirk, and then he surprised you with what seemed to be an honest response. “I would go to therapy anyway, my job is stressful enough on its own, but yeah, the team's recent performance is definitely something I need to learn to deal with.”

“I'm sure there are highs and lows in every aspect of life, so maybe it won't last much longer,” you offered with a warm smile.

Charles nodded. “That's what I'm hoping for. What about you? Why do you go to therapy?” he asked cautiously.

Well, since he was honest with you, there was no reason to lie. It's not like he would go around telling everyone about it. “I have bipolar disorder. The meds will hopefully work, but I need therapy too. Makes things easier,” you added with a shrug.

He was awfully quiet, and for a moment you expected him to stand up and leave. Wouldn't have been the first time, you had already lost a friend thanks to this. But then he picked up his glass and watched the bubbles move inside as he broke the silence with a smile. “You look well to me.”

A small smile crept on your lips when you heard this. “Thanks. Honestly, I feel better too,” you said proudly. Because you were proud of what you achieved in a short amount of time.

Then you both returned to your respective lunches, but Charles had to focus on keeping a healthy balance between feeding himself and Leo for now. It was adorable, really. You felt like you should say something, anything to break the silence, but he didn't seem to mind it. To him it might have been comfortable, because when he noticed you staring, he flashed a smile at you without saying a word, then returned to his lunch.

A good fifteen minutes later your phone had begun to blow up. Your friends were sending dozens of messages into the group chat, making your phone ping and buzz non-stop. With an apologetic smile, you took a look at it, and your breath caught in your throat as you tapped the links they threw in there.

“Oh, shit,” you muttered, a painful groan leaving your throat when you noticed you'd been tagged in several social media posts too.

Charles looked at you with a puzzled look. “What happened?” he asked.

Instead of answering, you just showed him your phone. He kept scrolling, his eyes growing wider as he began to process the dozens of posts and hundreds of comments about the two of you having lunch together. It was insane how fast rumors flew across the internet, and it didn't make you happy at all.

Despite being born and raised in Monaco, you had been taught to stay under the radar your whole life. Your parents made sure no photos of you would be published anywhere, and you were trained to do everything in a way that kept you away from the spotlight. People didn't know your name, they barely even knew your parents’ name, which was a good thing.

Well, so much for that.

“Hey, it's okay. Just a few photos,” Charles offered as he gave you back the device and placed his hand on your arm. “They'll move on soon, I promise.” When he saw you were still upset about it, he spoke up again. “Look, I think you already knew I wanted to ask you out, so if you would say no anyway, this is the time to tell me. I wouldn't blame you.”

How could he be so sweet? You did have a feeling that's where this conversation was going, but you weren't sure until now. Now that you knew, you had to figure out how to decide. When he showed up, you were sure you didn't want anything. But now? Maybe getting to know him better wouldn't be so bad after all.

“It's okay. I think I can handle it,” you told him with a small smile.

Your positive response made him smile too as he looked down at the puppy in his arms. “You heard that? You'll get all the kisses and cuddles you want.” He looked up at you with a playful look in his eyes. “Maybe I will too,” he added.

[llinstarr]

My poor boy😔

[terymlxyrstdus]

james giving barty love advice about evan is my favourite thing

[the-genius-az]

I have an idea.

I'm thinking of an Au where there was actually no war and it's only in the minds of the characters.

Do you know about Harry Potter? There are many fics that talk about Harry actually being in an asylum and not at Hogwarts.

Anyway, what disorders would the characters have?

For example, Azula has schizophrenia, what about the others?

I'm thinking Zuko has bipolar disorder or something.

But give me clear explanations because I love analysis!

[samynnad102687]

Share a snippet

Thanks for the tag @jaylienpotter.

This is from the next chapter of Gemini.

James didn't say anything for a while. Barty didn't either. He sat there and held James' hand, rubbing circles into the back of it until James was ready. James let his mind focus on the movement and the steading beeping of the heart monitor instead of the fact that he tried to take his own life again. He was grateful that he didn't succeed but he also didn't want to deal with anything yet. "I'm sorry. Please forgive me," James whispered but refused to open his eyes.

NP tags: @thebibutterflyao3 @lulublack90 @calamitoustide and anyone else who wants to join.

[rayrayor]

Thank you @dynamic-power for Room for More as this week’s @galladrabbles

I was feeling stumped this week until I read a bittersweet fic-let about the way Ian and Mickey navigate bioploar disorder. It is a realness on how Ian recognizes his hallucinations and relates to them. Even more heartfelt is how Mickey supports his husband. Thank you @crestfallercanyon for your story and inspiration for this galladrabble 🫶

Room for more

Ian was nine when Monica talked about voices.

He laughed.

At 17, his voices made themselves known.

His voices were tricksters, worming into his reality.

For his eyes and ears only.

The horror movie he could not turn off or whisper in an empty room.

The fairy showed him beautiful things.

Shim and the others were relentless violence.

“ Ian, c’mon. Red, take your pills. I know those voices are assholes, but I am a bigger one. Listen to me, not them.”

Ian felt his anxiety lessen. There was room for one more voice, the pure one: Mickeys.

[spiderprongs]

please i beg you… t4t jegulus pls… maybe with a splash of bipolar james even… please there’s almost none

[sunseekerlove]

lil excerpt from the marauders hbh au

“You’re awfully quiet over there Prongs, what’s on your mind?” Peter asks, and isn’t that the question, what’s on James’ mind. There are significant people in that train car who cannot know the true answer to that question. He could say he’s thinking about the past, but Sirius will make a joke about being too deep, Peter will probably say something along the lines of ‘that’s sad’ and Remus will most likely ask if he’s okay. So that’s a no.

He could say he’s excited about the pranks they can pull this year, but Remus would see right through that, James has significantly relaxed with his troublemaking behaviour —sort of— so that doesn’t work either. He could say he’s stressed about the school year, but that will just make his friends stress too, or they’ll spend the rest of the train ride trying to get him to talk about it. So he just settled for a little white lie.

“Oh, just zoned out for a second, sorry.”

[floralcyanide]

𝐄𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 ⊹ 𝐄𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐲

Ethan Landry x Gender Neutral!Reader

Ethan is in love with you. But you aren't real.

warnings: visual and auditory hallucinations, psychosis, bipolar disorder, descriptions of such topics, one-sided feelings (technically)

word count: 1015

author's note: helloooo here is a little thing I wrote. I personally have bipolar disorder and have experienced psychosis. it's terrifying but I'm medicated for it now. I have had auditory hallucinations but have never had visual ones. if you suspect you're in psychosis or feel unsafe, please talk to someone.

masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ.

Ethan scrubs his scalp, sighing as the hot water hits his back just right. It was late at night, probably in the AM at this point. He had accidentally fallen asleep on the couch and slept the whole evening away. Ethan needed the rest, though. He’s been severely depressed and on the verge of a psychotic episode. His episodes were relatively tame- he would lash out sometimes, but it wasn’t as bad as it used to be. He also had trouble sleeping but would eventually get his sleep routine back in check. Ethan also had weird hallucinations, seeing shadows in the corner of his eye and hearing his name being called when no one was there. And sometimes, although rarely nowadays, he’d see you. But then, shortly after his psychosis ended, you’d be gone.

As Ethan starts conditioning his hair, he hears weird things downstairs again. He chalks it up to his roommate, Chad, being awake still with some of his friends. But then he remembers Chad has an exam in the morning and would be asleep by now. Ethan ignores the sounds, hoping it’s his brain playing tricks on him with the sound of the shower water running. Once he starts running his soap over his body, he hears his name being called.

Ethan yanks the shower curtain open, checking to see if anyone is in the locked bathroom with him. He knows it’s locked because he checked several times, not because of OCD or anything, but because having a roommate means being walked in on if you aren’t careful. Ethan was glad that he only had bipolar disorder and the anxiety, depression, and other symptoms that came with that. He doesn’t know how he’d live having OCD. Bipolar is enough, especially with the super fun psychotic episodes that lasted weeks to months or the mania that was the same way. Ethan is lost in his thoughts as he rinses himself off and almost doesn’t hear his name being called again. Almost.

He sighs and turns off the shower, sliding the curtain open before grabbing his towel. He unlocks and opens the door to see the entire apartment is pitch black. No one is there. He begins to dry himself off, trying to ignore his name being faintly called. Ethan decides he needs to tell his doctor to up his medication dosage when he sees him next week. But the thing is, he doesn’t want to. 

“What do you want?” Ethan whispers to his reflection in the mirror, glancing behind him, waiting for the inevitable.

After waiting a minute, he tears his eyes away from the mirror to get dressed. Once he finishes, he returns to the mirror and nearly jumps out of his skin.

“Took you long enough.”

You’re standing there behind Ethan, just barely visible. Your voice is hushed and almost inaudible. The hallucinations of you that he used to get aren’t nearly as severe anymore. Ethan used to be able to touch you and feel you there. Sometimes he misses that.

“You aren’t supposed to be here, Y/N.”

“I know. But I’m still here, aren’t I?” you lay your head on his shoulder, looking at your reflections in the glass. 

Ethan can no longer feel your chin against his skin, your breath on his neck, or hear your voice quite as loudly as before.

“You’re fading,” Ethan wants to reach up for you, but he knows he won’t feel you there.

The longer he takes his medicine, the less frequent and less intense the hallucinations are. But he needed something stronger for you to go away completely. But he isn’t sure he wants that. He already misses you enough, although he’s starting to learn to live without you now.

“Yeah,” you sigh, pulling away from him, “But I’ll always be here,” you say, pointing at his heart.

Ethan feels his eyes burn with tears. Even though you aren’t real, something about you is. And that will always stay with him. He thinks the death of his brother and what he had done is what conjured you up. A psychotic break. One that was tapering off but still intense enough. But now that Ethan has a therapist, those feelings of unwavering anger, unforgiveness, sadness, grief, denial, and so on aren’t as bad. And when they were was when he’d see you the most.

“Your brother loves you, Ethan,” you say sadly, “He’d want what is best for you, you know.”

“And what would that be?” Ethan asks, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes to force the tears away.

“For you to let go and say goodbye.”

Ethan’s hand flies away from his eyes as they snap open. He looks down at you; you’re as real and visible as ever. Just as you were when you first appeared. Ethan hesitantly reaches out to touch your hair, and he cries when he feels the strands. He knows what you’re insinuating.

“I don’t want to,” Ethan frowns, his eyes looking into yours, drinking in their color because he knows this is the last time he’ll see them again.

“You have to, or you’ll never get better,” you pull Ethan’s hand from your hair and to your face, pressing his palm into your cheek.

You lean into his touch one last time.

“I will always love you,” you whisper.

“I love you too,” Ethan whispers back, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

He sighs, opening his eyes. You’re gone.

When Ethan wakes up the next morning, the apartment is eerily silent. For the first time in months, he doesn’t hear his brain buzzing constantly. And he doesn’t see you or hear you anymore. When Ethan tells his doctor about you, he’s concerned but dismisses it as he is no longer hallucinating. He puts Ethan on something stronger for his bipolar disorder and psychotic episodes. Ethan tells himself this is for his own good, and that you were never real. But the love he felt for you over the last 9 months was real. And he would never take that back.

[cassiaratheslytherpuff]

Rating: E Wordcount: 212k Status: Complete

There’s a war in the Magical world, and James should really be focusing on his work for the Order and on keeping his friends safe. But his thoughts won’t stop spinning, and he’s charged with a restless and destructive energy that he just can’t shake. At least not until he runs into Regulus Black at a Muggle gay bar. Regulus is off limits and bad news, and the idea that he shouldn't is the only thing James needs to follow Regulus home.

What starts out as a reckless way to release tension quickly turns into a romance that should never be, because Regulus is a Death Eater – and more importantly – Sirius’s brother. Except Regulus doesn’t want to be a Death Eater, and James was never very good at avoiding the things he should.

Read on AO3

[remushrts]

write something about bipolar barty

— pairings: barty crouch jr. x regulus black (hinted)

— a/n: this is cluttered kinda, but i hope you like it! also you didn't specify if you wanted him maniac or depressed so i did him depressed and i might do a maniac one later on!

— summary: barty having a depressive episode

It comes to him in waves. It comes to him like the first, worst wave of a tsunami, washing him off to shore until he's numb to it. Truth is, he gets numb by it. He closes his eyes, hold his breath, but he knows he can't stop it from coming. He can't, his friends can't, his boyfriend can't. Barty feels like the worst circus attraction of all times, but he can't stop it.

Then, it just goes blank. It goes weeks without notice, it goes months at long. Suddenly he doesn't remember when it started, or if it even started. Sometimes he thinks he's always been like that. Sometimes it's his father's voice telling him that, too.

Barty wishes, he really wishes his boyfriend and friends would stop looking at him like that. Barty has never grown found of pity, never liked it, to be honest. He tries to think of all the things he didn't like in this world.

One, his father. Easy, of course, and obvious, but it has to be number one on his list. Two, commiseration. Not because of what you think, he just thinks the word is too long. Maybe if it was easier to write it would roll out of his tongue easier too. Maybe then he could talk about it rather than going numb, or crying.

Growing up, people have always said Barty was tough. Tough, even when he was little, even when he'd rather be anything else. No, Barty was tough. He was bark and bitter and bloody knuckles, born and raised to not fear anything, under the wing of a ever-demanding father, the ever lasting shadow of his mother. So yes, if anything, Barty Crouch Jr was tough. Or so he thought.

The number three: crying. Evan says it is about the catharsis or some shit, Barty doesn't care. He hates it, he hates being seen crying, hates that his tears seen to fall for hours once they start, he hates that he sobs. Loud crier, or that's what his parents say of him. Can never keep it down, he remembers his father saying. He can, it turns out, from the countless times he cried from anger from his father when the referred man was only next door. He doesn't remember the last time he cried. He thinks it's been a year or two, but again his memory sucks at this kind of things.

The only thing he's sure is that Regulus hold him through it.

Regulus, who for once didn't act careless whenever he touched Barty, Regulus who handled him like he was the most delicate of things, the most sacred of gifts, a bliss into his life. Regulus who touched him like sunlight. Barty never thought he'd be so fond of being treated like he'd break. Like he could break, for a start. But oh, how he liked it. Then, how he loved it.

Barty's face were stained with tears, something he'd never admit if it was to anyone but Regulus, his flesh red and whipped, wounded skin under Regulus ever so light touch. Barty winced at the contact. He wished for many things. Most of all, he wishes Regulus hasn't seen him in such state. He wishes Regulus would for once turn his back on him, be a terrible friend for his own sake, he wishes that for once, Regulus would frown at his scars. The look of love in his eyes makes the boy hiss like a scared cat. He hated it. He hated how much he bended over Regulus touch. He wishes he would turn him away instead.

Regulus never did. It'd be easier if he was as tough as people make him out to be. But no, Barty wasn't tough. He didn't feel tough. Not when he was panting and his breath was catch on his lungs and it felt like dying. It felt like dying until Regulus' touch bring him back from the dead.

Then it just felt like Regulus.

[cherry-waves66]

okay since my last post about The Passenger 2023 got “hype” and people wanted me write fics for it I’ve been thinking about the small town location-

One of my favorite aspects of the southern gothic sub genre is how it plays with atmosphere. The south is such a visceral experience and feeling, the small town locations, the surrounding houses and worn down grocery marts, the isolated community and the people with their tangible loneliness. Its got this sense of being cut off from the rest of the world that I myself experienced growing up in a rural town. The environment both physical and socially cultural become a character in themselves and this is very tangible throughout The Passenger 2023

But I also love how this experience extends to Benson and Randy. How it sculpts who they are as individuals and how they’ve (very differently) dealt with traumatic events. It’s in the way Randy’s coworkers don’t take his masculinity seriously, targeting him as an outlier. It’s in the way Benson has a shotgun in his trunk and a cabinet full of guns back at his house. It’s in the way Benson calls his mom ‘ma’ and how in those seven or more hours Randy and Benson circle home because they’ve never experienced anywhere else. Wouldn’t really know how to. It’s where they experienced everything bad and good in life. To leave it without a glance back? Well that’s just impossible. Especially considering where Randy and Benson are at in regards to their mental health/over all mentality. Both having not been able to move on or heal from damage caused during childhood, both having been hurt in a space meant to be safe for children.

They each carry this immense amount of guilt for very different reasons and rural town America knows how to nourish shame like none else.

[searsage]

"Spread your legs, but remain resting on your stomach." Al-an instructs patiently, finally pulling away to give the synthetic space to shift herself into a more comfortable position on the terminals.

However while the exo arm releases its grip on her neck, the other gripping her wrist holds fast, a silent confirmation that he was still vary much aware of the plasma blade still clinched in her fist and the damage she could indeed deal with it.

His magenta blood seeps freely from the wounds she inflicted moments earlier, leaking from around the plasma blade's twin still wedged within his throax, dripping down from the precursor onto her back, burning the poor synthetic's skin where the caustic substance burned through the fabric of her suit.

Al-an pauses tilting his horns in consideration, his warm claw idly stroking up and down the length her spine, as he contemplated his thoughts, the feeling of soothing comfort was oddly conflicting, given that she was still covered in the architect's blood and one of her blades were still sticking out if his throax.

Still it dampened the edge on nerves she'd never admit were frazzled, in truth his patient guidance was disarming her in a way the synthetic wasn't prepared for.

"Have you had the opportunity experience this physical stimulus prior..?"

"…The prostitution of synthetics was outlawed years ago."

"That was not my inquiry, But I am curious..Did the ability to resist make you a less desirable candidate..?"

"God you just dont know when to shut up do you?! Look, I haven't okay?!"

[useramor]

IT'S DONE I FINISHED IT IT'S COMPLETE

[astaraels]

Ian Gallagher's worst enemy is in his own mind. Warning for a thorough depiction of bipolar disorder, both mania and depression. (ao3)

A fire storm swirls in your mind and it's like an itch under your skin. A screaming in your veins that you're desperate to tear out. White noise everywhere and you can't, can't stop feeling it. You've never been on a roller coaster before but this has to be what it feels like—you can barely hold on, fingertips slipping, and all you can do is laugh. A grin on your lips, splitting open, all harsh and feral like some wild thing that can't be trapped. It can't contain you—it sets you free.

But there's a pulsing in your blood, too; a fury that seems to pace back and forth. That's where the caged animal lives, at the back of your mind beneath the laughter and drugs and sex. Always searching, needing a way out. It slips, now and then, the key to the cage. That's when the knife ends up in your hand, pressed to that bastard's throat and all you want is to let your arm do what it will no one will miss a piece of shit like him—

"Ian-"

A voice, a hand, a flash of worry in a pair of eyes so blue. Lake Michigan eyes. Mickey reaches carefully, so carefully for your hand. The glint of the knife catches your eye. Your blood boils, remembering what brought you here—a blackened eye, a bloody lip, a shattered girl who you love so much—but in a breath it's gone. Out of your hands. So many things are out of your hands but you could have done this. No. Mickey won't let you and Mandy would cry. You can't make her fucking cry.

Sometimes the storm in your head hurts like a pressure cooker, building up steam and exploding when you least expect it. You laugh about it, a laugh you see your family flinch away from. A laugh that darkens those Lake Michigan eyes. But you've never felt more you than right now. At the top of the roller coaster is the best kind of view.

Until the fire in your mind consumes you whole, brings you crashing down to earth in free fall. Like you hit the ground and there's something, something heavy on your back. You don't want to move it. You'd rather lay here and fucking die. Some moments you think you just might. The burn and the crash, the sluggish feeling as your blood seems to ooze through your veins, more molasses than quicksilver. You can't move. You won't move. You don't move.

Lake Michigan eyes catch yours but your gaze slips away. He speaks but words are useless. You close your eyes to shield yourself. Sleep—fucking sleep, when's the last time you had any fucking sleep?—is all you want, all you need. The blankets like a heavy weight over you. All you want is silence. You want relief.

Words seem to cut through the fog that's formed in your brain, the aftermath of the fire storm that's raged for fuck knows how long. It hurts to think. It hurts to move. If you cared enough those words might bite, might sting. But instead you let yourself be pulled under, tossed into the deep, sinking down. Down.

Down.

You could let yourself drown in Lake Michigan eyes.