#but my biggest goal was to get all my medical shit going before graduation so i could enter the job market passing well enough

[embeddedsystems-shius]

Y'all I've been awake since 4 am. Its 7 now.

Like ya know what? I've given up.

I think sleep is just not gonna be something I'm good at, until I can get my mental (and physical) shit sorted. Depression can go suck my imaginary balls

That being said, now that I'm ACTUALLY remembering who tf I am - yo I just gotta ask someone.

Why am I so aggressive, bro???

Like bro who hurt you man (its me)

I'm starting to really find that I'm really just a light-trigger kinda person. I'd probably fly off the handle at anything, if I didn't have self-control.

Which I didn't use to have.

I was probably just a VERY dangerous person, at one point.

Quite literally - me being medicated and then subsequently beat down by the entire world was PROLLY a good thing, cause otherwise the person writing these logs down (me) wouldn't BE here. I'd either be fuckin dead via death row (that was the INITIAL goal), or just shot on the street.

The first adults who got literally ANYTHING through my thick skull were literal convicted criminals.

They're one of the biggest reasons why I'm who I am today.

I think I said on stream once, that I've met both the BEST and WORST types of people in my lifetime, right? Cause I'm being legit when I say that I've been around pretty much everyone, bro.

When I got kicked out of school at 18 - I wasn't kicked out because of the 'incident'... Which, I'll explain later, about. Maybe one day, when I get the guts to do so. But yeah.

I was actually kicked out a few months after the fact, cause the PNP head psych took a look at me, and gave me the forensic label of a "Youth Psychopath".

Technically, before 2014 I believe - Psychopathy was a clinical diagnosis as well.

Imma let you look up what a "Youth Psychopath" is yourself, but the best way I can explain it is a "a young psychopath with IMMEDIATE need for medical intervention/guidance, that can possibly be strayed from full-blown psychopathy".

So yeah, I was CLINICALLY labeled a criminal in the making - which is why I got kicked, because I was considered a legitimate threat within school grounds. I haven't been able to go back on that campus since. I'm pretty sure I might still not be allowed in.

But the point being, is that at the ripe age of 18 years old, straight outta the hospital - I lost almost everything I had. And it was all my fault, too.

I almost couldn't graduate highschool; there was one school that accepted me in after, but thats cause they were the type of private school in the Philippines that would accept ANYBODY in - given enough money.

Mind, shit like that's more common than you'd probably expect. Everywhere in the world, honestly.

It's actually where I met my favorite group of filthy degenerate misfits - the only group of fuckers who accepted me for who I was, because they were JUST as fuckin broken and flawed, as I was.

This was the only school that even remotely accepted them in - and now, that schools fuckin gone, too. Lmao.

Even then, they weren't convicted criminals. Juvi doesn't count.

The people I'm talking about where the people I met while in the mental hospital - this hospital being one of the most (and only) high-profile mental asylums in the Philippines, at the time.

And yes, the word "Mental Asylum" is accurate to what it was. There ain't much in the Philippines for that kinda shit. Still isn't.

I was put in with a group of others, in the mental ward right beside the morgues.

I remember that bit clearly - because you gotta get strapped onto a stretcher to even enter the basement floors, and get escorted into the mental ward. There ain't much else to see, unless you're interested in looking at the screaming freaks who'd probably count as your next roommates for the coming weeks.

There was a lot of random screaming from grown-ass adults. All the time.

There was a lot of wailing and crying and laughing for no reason - but mostly it was just people talking to themselves. Making aimless rounds around the nurse center room, shooting dirty looks at anyone who tries to make eye contact with them.

There was a lotta different types of patients; of course there were the schizophrenics, the down syndrome adults with personal nurses - but the main demographic I fell into was with the criminals and rich drug addicts (because drug usage generally also counts as pretty heavy criminal activity, in the Philippines). These were the types of people who were either rich enough to avoid jail time, or mentally fucked enough to be court ordered outta the prison system.

Because this was the highest profile mental ward in the entire Philippines at the time - the facilities weren't exactly... Accessible, to just your average joe. You needed to be absolutely FUCKED to find yourself in there.

For the longest time, I was the youngest patient there (by a long shot) - because I was still a damn teenager. First time I was 17, turning 18 in the next month.

This was how bad my case was considered to be. Although it ofc probably also helped that my parents were rich.

We weren't allowed to share any real names.

None of us were allowed any way to really research who anyone else was, either. No tv cable, no online anything - we were basically disallowed from disclosing who we were to anyone else, as well.

The question "what got you in here?" Was something we basically asked in whispers, when the nurses weren't directly observing us.

I was one of the rare female inmates, but I didn't really look like, or act like a girl. It made things a little complicated for me.

It was a mixed ward, but the actual gender ratio felt more like a 2:8. The other women who were in, were being treated more for things like hysteria - a lot of whom were middle to older agee ladies who'd lost children, family, or other loved ones. They were really nice, but they mostly just saw me as a shadow of their own sons.

It mostly became a problem when they'd come barging into me and my roommates quarters in the dead of night (there was this one specific lady who liked me a LIL too much, to the point that she'd come in sobbing to hug me and stuff. I don't really understand tagalog that well, but apparently she kept wailing about her "baby boy" when she entered. I guess I look liked one of the people she was grieving).

Its probably one of the reasons why getting hugged without consent makes me kinda panic, honestly.

But yeah, me being mistaked as somebody's son was a kind of consistent thing for me.

In the end tho - the way I am worked to my own favor.

Before I even go any further with this topic - here's a picture of how I looked, back then.

This pics taken like a year or so later, but yeah.

There's a reason why everyone mistook me for a boy. The other apects were probably my personality, and possibly my voice. Though I'm not entirely sure about that.

Regardless, the friends I made were the adult men that everyone else considered to be "violent criminals". They were the only ones who really got me, and what I was going on about.

These men - some of whom were rumored to be rapists, or murderers of some sort - were the only ones who looked me in the eye and told me that "it isn't worth it".

They were the only ones who gave it to me straight. They were the only ones who really understood the weight of the guilt that would follow after those kinda actions. The kinda shit that follows after the red, and the blinding fuckin rage.

It was the men with the blood on their hands, that were the only ones ABLE to convince me off the path I was going on.

Taking the life of someone else isn't fuckin worth it. Because the blood will last on your skin, and the blood will stain.

It will contaminate you - and it won't let you ever fuckin leave.

You never get out, once you cross that line.

The weight behind their words scared me of course, but what convinced me more than anything - was the fucking pain that I heard in their voices when they said that shit.

There was something there that nobody could ever erase after the fact, and not even God would dare save them. Not even God could save them from themselves.

...I'm probably gonna need to talk more about the mental hospital one day, because it was honestly one of my more formative time periods in becoming who I chose to become today. But there's a lot there. I quite literally can't go through it all at once.

To end this, though - my first mentors were always the violent men. The ones with regrets, and the ones who knew blood.

It's why I listen to them.

The people that we consider "irredeemable".

Regardless of what they've done - they're still human beings, just like you or me.

Maybe some are beyond saving; and maybe most are. But they're still complicated, living, breathing people. They aren't just "criminals" or "low-lifes". Nobody is TRULY only the title that they carry.

And if they know something that I don't - if they're willing to tell me something with a genuine interest in making me end up not as they are - I am going to listen to them.

They will teach me shit I'd never even considered, before.

[no-pennies4thoughts]

Honestly do you ever wish you could just fuck off into the wilderness for like a year or two (preferably two) and then emerge?

Because like I kinda don't want anyone seeing this kinda awkward HRT starting phase, I wish I could just disappear until all the surgeries are performed, until my fat redistributes, my voice drops even more, the acne gets a little less severe (I know that it usually lasts until your 40s but guys have told me that it usually gets at least a bit better when the hormone levels get a bit less fucky, just like during cis guy puberty) and the T face chub disappears (I still don't really get why this happens tbh? But a lot of guys have said that even when you don't gain weight some of your fat moves to your face and neck for a while before it disappears around the 14 months on T mark? I'm not sure if I noticed anything like that on myself, I may just be getting paranoid from reading such things lol). Mostly I wish I could do that because it's like...when we go through puberty during teen years, people expect us to look different later. They think "Oh you look like shit but it's okay because during puberty everyone looks like shit and you'll look better later". But nobody knows that i'm essentially going through a second puberty, so everyone who meets me now or doesn't know about the course of HRT will think that I just look and sound this shit and honestly I'm not a fan of that. And also I want to finally be free of my chest. It's very hard to hide even with a binder (I'm double D and pretty skinny with a small ribcage) and I don't want anyone to even look at me while I have them.

That's such a mood 😭😭😭.

I started transitioning medically my last year of college and it was definitely weird. Thankfully, the results happened fairly quickly for me.

I think the best way to know how T is gonna work is to look at the men in your family. The men in my family get symmetrical facial hair that tends to focus on the neck before going to the rest of the face, they don't get super low voices, their faces get kinda rectangular, awful acne, etc. So that's more or less what I was expecting and it's more or less what I got. My face didn't get fatter, but it did get more rectangular. When paired with a haircut that complimented that it looked really good.

So advice for the neck fat and everything you mentioned is definitely look into hairstyles that actually work well with your facial structure. Cuz that makes a HUGE difference.

Thankfully acne didn't get too bad for me. I never got any acne the first time I went through puberty, so this time it was a mild to medium amount. It's pretty mild now. I got really lucky with my genetics.

I don't have much advice on the chest binding. I only wore binders for a month and then had to stop because of breathing issues (even when I went up in size). But I had a very similar size and body shape as you. This is what I found helpful:

-larger button down shirts with designs on them. Small graphics all over the shirt. Not so big that it's feminine but enough that the designs distract from my chest.

-puffy vests in the winter. I don't know how to describe them, but they basically look like a winter coat but as a vest. They are kinda puffy so they can help hide chests and curves.

-vests in general are good at hiding curves. Depending on how you wear it they can make chests look smaller. They can come off as feminine still, but at least it helps chest dysphoria.

-layers. I used to wear t shirts with a long sleeve flannel worn like a sweater.

-distracting hats that make people look up instead of down.

^^^^ none of these will necessarily help you pass. But they helped me with dysphoria at the very least.

On a last note tho. Time goes by fast. I was on T for about 8 months before I had top surgery. As soon as I got the surgery I was able to pass just fine. Less than one year on T and no visible chest was all I needed. I'm almost at 2 years now and still having no issues. It felt like I started T yesterday. Time went by really quickly. It's definitely weird going through the second puberty and it's awkward having others see you in that stage. But most won't even remember it as you start to develop further.

Literally tho, I have people who knew me before my name change that have completely forgotten my old name-- despite that happening less than a 5 months ago. My own girlfriend and her best friend have known me since we were 12 and they BOTH forget sometimes that I wasn't always a man. Once you get past the awkward stage people get normalized to how you are, and they really start to forget everything else.

[pennylanewrites]

I got seven different asks about the College AU so here are some headcanons I have about them! (imagine aiura is in the picture I couldn’t find a good one with all of them)

I definitely didn’t mean to make this so long but I can’t help it I love them all so much<3

~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~

Saiki Kusuo

→ marine!!!biology!!!major!!!!!!!!

→ doesn’t need to study but he still does bc he finds marine life so fascinating

→ read all of his textbooks on the first day bc he was so excited eeeek

→ always wears his germanium ring in class so he can stay hashtag focused

→ him and aiura have to bail toritsuka(didn’t go to college) out of jail once a month

→ speaking of aiura, she somehow has convinced him to go on a date on five different occasions

→ i think after high-school he realised he didn’t mind a kind of casual not-relationship with her

→ lets her hug him to greet him and sometimes he hugs back bc college boys stare a lot and he is just worried for her okay?

→ maybe I’m just projecting bc I kin aiura

→ does not go to parties unless he absolutely has to

→ if he does go to a party he’ll drink something quietly in a corner, just watching the crowd

→ a perv laced Teruhashi’s drink and almost lured her up the stairs so of fucking course Kusuo sprinted to help her, holding her on the way home bc men are drawn to her like bees to honey

→ she didn’t let him live it down ever

→ he rented a studio apartment and keeps it super clean, minimum clutter but enough to look lived in

→ cooks amazing food that Nendo smells from upstairs and next thing you know, they’re all bringing chairs to Kusuo’s apartment and have dinner

→ nothing excuses the fact he makes at least eight servings every time–

→ such a dad to everyone honestly

→ usually studies at a library or teleports back home if there’s a big test

→ mrs. saiki was banned from visiting every two days but she still ends up there somehow

→ not that he minds bc he’s the biggest mama’s boy ever

→ probably graduates a year early

→ doesn’t move away even though he got a job at the aquarium at the other side of the city help–

Kaidou Shun

→ fine arts major you can NOT change my mind

→ doesn’t do good in theoretical subjects but mans can draw some good bowls of fruit

→ wears those stained from the paints t-shirts all the time bc ‘no they’re not dirty it’s art!’

→ him and aren have small designated spaces in their apartment so they can focus on their hobbies/studying

→ his corner at the living room has newspapers on the floor to protect it from the splattering paint, some canvases propped up on the wall and a lot of unfinished projects

→ hides all of them when Nendou comes over

→ can not cook or clean to save his life

→ so he calls his mum to help clean up when Aren is at work

→ got over his 8th grader syndrome at some point

→ still wears red bandages bc he’s edgy

→ volunteers at the neighborhood exhibit centre

→ got asked to showcase his own works for a night and hasn’t shut up about it since

→ goes to yumehara for relationship advice and braids her hair as a thank you

→ couples sleepovers with Yumehara and Teruhashi (yes they’re dating shut up)

→ always makes something for Aren at special occasions (birthdays, anniversaries etc)

→ at first he went back home every saturday bc he missed his family :(

→ Aren helps him get over it though!!!!

Nendou Riki

→ got in on a sports scholarship

→ we already know he couldn’t be accepted in a college otherwise

→ in the chiropractic major bc he wants to be one of those athlete doctors

→ has failed way too many exams and classes

→ Hairo helps him so much though!!!

→ the last one in the group to graduate but somehow gets a job first (excluding Saiki)

→ him and hairo get up at 5 am for jogging or to hit the gym

→ and then he goes and gets noodles bc ‘if noodles aren’t for breakfast why do shops open at 6 am?’

→ hasn’t stepped foot in class in months

→ he gets decent grades after failing the first semester and it’s totally not Saiki’s doing

→ he ends up signing up for way too many clubs

→ attends all of the meetings and has so many friends through them

→ I would be his friend too in college honestly

→ a fraternity wanted to get him bc he’s so good at sports

→ he declined bc he does not understand how fraternities even work

→ is the life of EVERY SINGLE PARTY change my mind you can’t

→ whatever you do don’t imagine nendo surprising his boyfriend with flowers after every practice

→ *dies cutely*

Kuboyasu Aren

→ SOCIOLOGY MAJOR

→ idk I just think he would enjoy Marx’s Capital

→ debate club? hell yeah

→ gets in philosophical conversations at the school yard for HOURS

→ kaidou has to drag him away

→ only shops at thrift stores and makes coffee at home bc “capitalism is not accepted in this household”

→ rides his motorcycle to college even though he lives five minutes away

→ grew his hair out in a mullet again and he looks *chef’s kiss*

→ thought he would be moving too fast if he asked Kaidou to rent an apartment together

→ aiura convinced him it was fine

→ cooks kaidou’s favorite foods every day

→ participates in student rallies, human rights protests etc etc

→ comes home with bruises and kaidou thinks he looks so hot but still yells at him

→ Aren’s favorite place to study is his balcony or at a coffee shop

→ always with kaidou! cute boyfriends who do everything together!!

→ gets so drunk when they go out

→ drunk karaoke with kokomi yes yes yes

Hairo Kineshi

→ did someone say Athletic Training?

→ does every single sport and is amazing at it

→ will cheer for his bf if they have a game at the same time though

→ it was his idea to move in together bc ‘hey we’ve been dating for three years now might as well’

→ volunteers at a nearby elementary as a coach for the kids

→ SO GOOD WITH KIDS

→ wants to be a P.E. Teacher and he’s going to be great at it

→ does everything he can at campus

→ helping random clubs, making posters, cleaning up the hallways, helping the cheer squad with their new routine

→ dances ballet as a hobby even though he’s so good at it that he could be a professional

→ makes everything a competition with Nendo so they never get bored

→ once made everyone get up to jog with them and they ended up sleeping on random benches while Hairo and Nendo were halfway across town

→ will punch someone if he sees them catcalling a girl

→ doesn’t drink at all and eats super healthy

→ designated driver for the group’s outings downtown

Aiura Mikoto

→ THEATER MAJOR

→ is so good at stage acting it’s unreal

→ lands the lead role almost every time

→ is also an amazing singer so she gets great roles in musicals as well

→ doesn’t have to get a job bc she gets all her money from doing readings on campus

→ gets coffees and pastries from all the coffee shops around campus and sits Kusuo down so he can taste them

→ they have a little taste-testing date in his apartment until they decide none of them are as good as the ones at Cafe Mami

→ she totally doesn’t make him teleport there every morning and he totally doesn’t listen to her

→ moved in with chiyo bc they wanted a nice place that they couldn’t afford on their own

→ teruhashi told them to move in with her but they already loved their little place

→ aiura’s bedroom is the most comfortable and cozy room ever

→ their apartment is also the hang out spot for the group bc it’s just so homey

→ hangs out with her theatre group a lot, especially after class

→ they can’t compare to her friends though:(

→ everyone goes to her when they’re worried and she loves it bc she’s the mummy of the group

→ she makes everyone coffee and their comfort food before big exams:)

Yumehara Chiyo

→ psychology major one thousand percent

→ you know how they say that people choose psychology bc they don’t know what major they want?

→ that’s exactly what happened except she fell in love with it immediately

→ such a good student!!!

→ always does her assignments on time and still manages to have a social life

→ teruhashi asked her out at the end of their first semester and that’s the first time chiyo missed a deadline

→ practically lives with teruhashi, insisting it’s just to leave aiura alone

→ she’s just IN LOVE OKAY?????

→ would want to be a sorority girl at first

→ changed her mind when she realized how much shit they all talked

→ her and kaidou drink wine and talk about their relationships and studies

→ she’s so sleep deprived it’s unreal

→ she doesn’t need sleep anymore though

→ coffee is her best friend

→ makes asks Aiura for readings twice a week

→ brings all her psychology friends home and they analyze their textbooks

→ once she got the hang of it, she decided to examine Kusuo

→ she told him he needs actual medical evaluation

→ he almost threw her out the window when she offered some Xanax for his nerves

→ chiyo is a neat freak one hundred percent

→ hates when Aiura throws everything on the floor, but she loves cleaning

→ opens her own office after school

Teruhashi Kokomi

→ PRE-MED

→ lesbian doctor :)

→ just wanted to get away from her perv brother at first

→ she always wanted to be a doctor though, preferably a neurosurgeon

→ she’s super duper smart and hates when she gets good grades bc of her good looks:(

→ makes it her goal to show her professors that she’s more than a beautiful girl

→ hasn’t failed a single exam

→ helps everyone with their studies even though she’s drowning in work

→ drops the perfect girl image at college and decides she should try and aim for something normal

→ gets invited to every single party

→ in a knitting club bc it would get disbanded without one more member

→ knits!!!matching!!!sweaters!!!for all of her friends!!!

→ asked Chiyopipi out while drunk

→ never regretted it though

→ her and aren get so drunk when they go out with the group

→ it’s honestly unreal how much they can drink before passing out

→ has to get carried home

→ wakes up after getting drunk and runs to her class before remembering it’s Sunday

→ her penthouse has the perfect view of the sunset and sunrise and is all she could ask for in life

→ does get lonely so she’s practically living with Chiyo and Aiura

→ once she realized she didn’t like boys she made it her goal to get Saiki and Aiura together

→ people wonder how she has so much time to play matchmaker and volunteer while she’s in premed

→ does her internship at a hospital

→ ends up working there as a neurosurgeon after her Doctorate degree

~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~

[hiddlestonsbabygirl]

Care For Me (Steve Rogers au) SugarDaddy!Steve

•prologue•

An alternative universe where Steve isn’t an Avenger, but rather a CEO of one of the biggest companies in the US. His best friend and business partner Bucky secretly made him an account in an online dating site for sugar daddies and sugar babies, setting Steve up on a date with the only suitable sugar baby he thought was best for his best friend among the million others in his inbox.

It’s you. You’re the sugar baby.

Or,

Where reader is a med student who is badly in need of financial support and resorted to desperate measures by signing up to an online dating site with a little help from reader’s best friend, Nat.

•••

You ran up the staircase, not bothering to apologize as you bumped into strangers along the way. Your heart hammered against your chest as sweat outlined your forehead, thoughts running through your mind as you wondered what could have happened to your apartment. You just got a call from your good neighbor Mrs. Sally that the landlord stormed into your hallway followed by two men in white muttering angry words as he unlocked your door with his duplicate key. You knew instantly why he was there. You were getting kicked out of your own apartment since you weren’t able to pay for your rent in six months. The landlord had warned you beforehand to pay sooner, but it was getting harder and harder each day. You were already broke, all your savings spent on your medical school. You didn’t want to stop your studies—you were already on your third year and ever since you graduated college your goal was straight; finish med school, pass the licensure exams and become a doctor. You couldn’t even last a week on your countless part-time jobs because of your coming in late due to knee-deep work you have to face every single day in school.

Your financial status was making it hard for you to finish your goal. Very hard.

You reached your floor, and, as expected, all your things were outside your door in boxes. Your heart sank as you stared at the mess, your clothes and books thrown aggressively into the containers as if they meant nothing but pieces of trash.

You rushed inside and your landlord was standing by your small kitchen, barking orders at his two men, without even noticing that you entered.

“Please, sir,” you cried as you neared him. “Please give me one more chance. I’ll pay by the end of the month, I promise!”

He scowled at you. “I’ve given you too many chances, (Y/N). You’re too much.”

He turned his back at you and proceeded to march into your bedroom, calling out one of his men to follow him inside.

“No!” You yelled angrily this time. You couldn’t believe him. You may haven’t paid your debt owed to this man but that didn’t give him the right to intrude into your privacy.

You ran past them and stood in front of them before they could get any closer to the door, your cheeks flushed and eyes filled with angry tears.

“You can’t just walk into someone’s bedroom and take everything away!” You cried. “I can pack up myself! I don’t need your filthy hands on my belongings!”

Your landlord looked furious. “Then throw your damn things out of my apartment in the next hour or I’ll fucking rip this room apart by myself!”

You flinched at the loudness and anger of his voice before he turned around and left without another word, his men following close behind. Once you heard the main door slam shut you bawled your eyes out, sinking to the floor as you struggled to think of places where you could find refuge without having to pay. All you had in your wallet was a 20-dollar bill, and you didn’t have any extra cash in your bank account. You considered searching for very cheap rooms in the vicinity without having to ride because riding meant paying. But you couldn’t walk on the streets while struggling to hold boxes of your things. They were even too many for only two small hands.

You sobbed. At this point you felt so hopeless already. You almost convinced yourself that you were going to throw your unnecessary things away and sleep on the streets, while asking for spare change. You’d have to give up your med school since you couldn’t shoulder all the expenses anymore and just look for a job where it pays just enough for food and shelter. You didn’t have a family anymore to back you up. Your addictive mother left you for a stranger, and your father’s been gone even before you were born. You didn’t have any siblings, nor uncles or aunts or extended family members where you could go to for help. You had no one. It was only you.

You wiped away your tears, swallowing your pride as you took out your old, worn-out phone from your pocket and dialed your best friend’s number.

Natasha.

She’s been your best friend since high school, and you both shared the same passion in life. You both wanted to become a doctor. You both have so much in common, and you both agree to almost everything. You’ve been there for each other through the ups and downs, and Natasha has helped you through your own struggles financially. But asking for this big favor from her was just too much for you. You didn’t want to add a burden to your best friend—med school is already hard enough as it is.

But you were already desperate. You didn’t have any more options. This was the only one.

“Hello?”

You felt a sudden wave of relief hearing a voice so soothing in the midst of the chaos. “Nat, hi.”

“(Y/N), have you been crying? What happened??”

You hiccuped. “I-I’m fine, Nat. C-Could you come over? I k-kind of need your help.”

“I’ll be there in ten.”

As promised, a knock came from your door and you stood up to open it, revealing a worried Natasha standing over your disarrayed valuables.

You couldn’t help yourself. Fresh tears welled up in your eyes as she pulled you in for a tight hug and you sobbed into her shoulder.

“We’ll pack up your things and go to my house. You’re staying there for as long as you like. My home is always open for you, (Y/N). And you know that.”

...

“So? How did it go with Katherine?” Bucky spoke up as he stabbed his medium-rare meat with his fork, clearly playing with his food rather than eating it. It was lunch break and Bucky and Steve were in their usual go-to for lunch, Redbird.

“Despite the fact that we called it a night early? It was okay.” Steve replied with a scoff, bringing a spoonful of rice to his mouth and watched as Bucky gave his best friend a deadpanned look.

“And you were the one who ended things early, not her, right?”

Steve nodded. He was slowly getting tired of Bucky setting him up with several women, whom he doesn’t even take interest in. He always has the need to pair Steve with someone because “you always look so bleak and somber,” as Bucky would put it.

“Buck, I really appreciate you doing these stuff for me, being my wingman and all, but I really don’t feel like dating right now.”

“Oh, yeah?” He retorted. “Then why do you always look so depressed? You can’t fucking tell me your wealth and fame is making you distressed. That’s some absurd bullshit right there.”

“Language.” Steve glared at him. He always hated when people cussed. For him it was indecent and dirty.

Except, of course, cussing in bed. He can only tolerate profanity under the sheets. But not often, though. That would be too much to listen to.

“Seriously??”

“And yes, James. Wealth and fame does not automatically make you happy and unproblematic. Do you know how many rich and famous people died because they took their own life? Because they hide their problems. The only image the public sees is the happy and successful façade they show.”

Silence. Steve was almost convinced he had won over their little argument.

“That shit deep, man.” Bucky only chuckled to which his best friend exhaled an exasperated sigh. Steve couldn’t even bother to point out that Bucky said a bad language word again.

“But you’ve got friends. Your family loves and supports you, you make time for sports and leisure...what could possibly make you so sad??”

Steve breathed out. “I told you, I’m not depressed, I’m not sad. I just don’t feel like dating as of the moment.”

“Will you feel like dating again tomorrow?”

“Haha, very funny.”

Bucky only stared at his best friend as he took a sip of his drink, studying him with confusion and amusement. Very formal man, always has a steely look on his face, very dominant demeanor, couldn’t even stand hearing curse words! What could his best friend possibly like in a woman?? Were his calculations wrong? Did he expect differently? Was he looking at it in a wrong angle?

Is Steve gay??

“Barnes, quit staring at me like that. You’re making me uncomfortable.” Steve brought him back to his senses.

And then it hit him.

“Hey, Steve, I think I need to go.” Bucky announced as he stood up and gathered his phone and wallet lying around on the table.

“Oh? Why the sudden hurry?” The blond-haired man asked as his eyes watched his best friend suddenly look distracted.

“It’s nothing. I just forgot to feed my pet dragon.” He then proceeded to pace towards the exit, leaving Steve confused and asked himself how he was acquainted with a weird and funny man like James Buchanan Barnes.

Little did Steve know that his best friend was up to a very stupid but brilliant idea. He knew he was going to get in trouble if Steve found out about it, but it was worth a shot. And his plan involved an online dating site and younger girls.

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

A/N: New series! Yay!!! Tags are also open, just hit me up! Next part coming soon ❤️

[kpopfanfictrash]

The Monogamy Monologues (Preview)

Status: Currently writing

Posting Date: February 7th (tentative)

Creative Contributor: @underthejoon​ for this lovely banner!

Genre: Rom-Com / Humor / Smut

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader

Synopsis: The year? Some point after college. The occasion? Namjoon is getting married and the Rich Man’s Crochet Club has convened once again. Somewhere between the drinks and the laughter, everyone has the same realization: Jungkook has never been in a serious relationship. In the name of all that is holy (Overwatch and booze), the club’s mission is revived. Now though, their goal is much more perilous. Now, they aim to find Jeon Jungkook a girlfriend. (Part of The Rich Man’s Crochet Club series)

Estimated WC: 40K

Rating: 18+

Preview: 2,088

“JIMIN!”

“JEON!” Waving wildly, Jimin flags Jungkook down as he steps off the escalator.

There are still several people between them, but none of them prove to be a match for Jungkook. Dodging them easily – spinning, at one point around a family of five – Jungkook dramatically runs towards the exit.

“JIMIN-SSI!” he yells. “I’M COMING!”

Jimin rolls his eyes at the display. “Get your ass over here, Jeon! Sorry,” he apologizes to the same family of five.

Although the mother shoots them both a dirty look, she hurries her kids towards the Taxi stand and does not look back. Jimin opens his arms just as Jungkook crashes into his chest.

Lowering his cheek to Jimin’s hair, Jungkook closes his eyes to whisper, “I think you got shorter.”

“Fuck off,” Jimin grunts, shoving him away before laughing.

Jungkook grins. “Anyways,” he says, slinging an arm about Jimin’s neck. “Are you ready for the best weekend of our lives?”

With a good-natured shake of his head, Jimin leads Jungkook out of the terminal. Always the excellent host, Jimin actually parked his car at the airport and walked inside to greet him. Jungkook cannot remember the last time his family did that for him, let alone a friend.

“Ready to assist Namjoon, you mean?” Jimin gives Jungkook a look. “You know – on his wedding day?”

“Yeah, yeah. That.” The moment they step outside, Jungkook takes a deep breath. “Ahh,” he groans, slowly exhaling. “You smell that, Jimin?”

“Car exhaust?”

“No. Lack of humidity.”

Jimin snorts, striding forward when the crosswalk turns green. “Still not sold on Miami?”

Jungkook opens one eye. “Miami’s fine,” he says automatically, following Jimin as they enter the garage.

Over his shoulder, the garment bag keeps banging his ass. As much as Jungkook hoped this would keep his suit from wrinkling, it is looking more and more like he will need an iron.

Not believing a word Jungkook says, Jimin raises a brow. “If you say so.”

As they reach the next aisle, Jungkook takes in deep gulps of air. Jimin shakes his head at his antics, but Jungkook could not care less. This city always smells like home to him. When they reach Jimin’s car, though – a sensible, gray Subaru – Jungkook’s feet falter.

“What happened to Liz?” he blurts, taken aback by the trade.

Liz was their college nickname for Jimin’s car, stemming from the infamous Liz Lemon of 30 Rock. So dubbed because Jimin’s old car was a complete piece of crap – a lemon, from the time he drove it off the lot.

Jimin pauses, flipping the keys in one hand. “Traded it in,” he says stiffly, pulling open the door. “Too many memories.”

Realizing what Jimin means, Jungkook winces. He had nearly forgotten about the break-up. Granted, it has been almost four months since Jimin and Olivia called it quits, but the two had been dating since college. Slightly longer than Namjoon and his fiancée.

Whereas Namjoon and his fiancée grew closer after University though, Jimin and Olivia were the opposite. Jimin graduated summa cum laude with an acceptance to one of the top medical schools in the country. His painful notetaking really paid off, as Namjoon was wont to say. When he moved to Chicago and began med school in earnest, Olivia left for New York to join a consulting company.

With their busy schedules and early twenties lives, the two drifted apart. Jimin was the one who held on, not wanting to end things with the first girl he loved. It was only when he surprised Olivia in New York over Valentine’s Day he realized it was over. Not that Olivia was cheating on him, or anything – maybe it would have been easier if she were. At least then, there would be somebody to blame.

No, Jimin merely realized they did not fit anymore. Olivia had her friends and interests; he had his and the two no longer meshed. Without realizing it, they had both reached a fork in the woods and turned down different paths.

Ever since their break-up, the chat has been wary of even mentioning her name.

Jungkook glances hesitantly at his profile. “You okay, man?” he asks as they enter the car. Tossing his duffle bag over the backseat, he prays it does not land on his suit.

“Okay?” Jimin places the car in reverse. “Could be better, I guess. Could be worse.”

Jungkook nods as they pull from the spot. Slouched in his seat, he stares out the window because in times like this, he is useless. When it comes to matters of the heart, Jungkook considers himself to be woefully inept.

“Sorry man,” he says quietly. A car honks in response as they get on the highway. “Wish I could say we always hated her, but you know that’s not true.”

Jimin snorts from the driver’s seat. “Yeah, I know. I can’t really bring myself to say that, either.”

“Well, maybe you two will –”

“No. We won’t.”

Seeing Jimin’s face, Jungkook shrugs and resumes looking out the window.

After a minute, Jimin exhales. “So, how’s Miami really going?”

Jungkook’s head whips sideways to face him.

The corner of Jimin’s mouth lifts. “Thought you hid it well, huh?”

“Better than five minutes into the car ride, yeah.”

“Well, you don’t.”

Jungkook snorts. “Miami is… fine. I don’t know. It’s not really Miami I have a problem with.”

“Your job, then?”

“Yeah, and… I don’t know. Everything.”

“Be a little more vague.”

Jungkook’s lips twitch. “I just…” He pauses, collecting his thoughts. “It was so much simpler in college, you know? Things were difficult, but it all had an end date. Right? Get through four years, and you’re done. I’m starting to realize… this doesn’t have an end date.”

Jimin’s lips purse at the road. “The end date is whenever you want it to be, JK.”

“I guess,” Jungkook grumbles, slouching lower in the seat. Any further, and he might slip off the edge. “But then I’d have to admit that I failed. That I spent eight fucking years of my life either in this job, or working towards it. What was the point if I quit?”

“What’s the point of spending another eight years doing something you hate?”

Jungkook stubbornly chews the inside of his cheek, knowing Jimin is right. The problem is, though – even if he quits, Jungkook has no idea what to do. Sure, he likes photography, but the field is competitive as hell. Jungkook wants to do something he loves, but he also wants to succeed. Taking such a massive leap terrifies him.

“Let’s talk about something else,” he mumbles, turning to Jimin.

Although Jimin arches a brow, he reluctantly lets the subject go. “Sure. Let’s talk instead about how Seokjin is bringing a date to the wedding.”

“Seokjin?” Jungkook’s brows shoot so far up, they near-disappear. “Who?”

“Some girl from LA.”

“No shit,” Jungkook exhales, slowly shaking his head. “Wow. We’re all settling down, huh? Soon, it’ll just be you and me, Jimin,” he grins, leaning over to punch Jimin in the arm.

The wheel jerks at the action, swerving them towards the next lane. “Hey!” Jimin blurts, straightening them out with a scowl. “At least I dated someone during the past five years, Jeon. Who’ve you been seeing?”

“No comment.”

“Huh. I don’t remember her. Was she the blonde?”

“Shut up,” Jungkook laughs, reaching out for the stereo. As the latest pop song fills the car, he pointedly stares out the window.

Jimin smiles, shaking his head. Namjoon’s wedding is being held in the city. His fiancée’s father is some big shot at a downtown law firm. From what Jungkook has gathered, the ceremony spiraled from a small, romantic affair into one of the biggest events of the season.

Jungkook’s lip quirks. That is how you know Namjoon’s fiancée’s family is rich. They use phrases like event of the season and christen their yachts with only the most expensive champagne. Having been to several yacht-christenings in Miami, Jungkook has never understood the event. What is the point of buying something expensive, only to ruin it?

Actually, maybe that is the point.

Pushing Miami from mind, Jungkook stares at the highway as they drive towards the city. The wedding has taken on a mind of its own, according to Namjoon. So detailed, so elaborate, they were forced to hire a wedding planner. Jungkook can only imagine Namjoon, micro-manager to the extreme, being forced to trust someone else with his life.

It has been a while since Jungkook last visited Chicago. Namjoon’s family is from here, and whenever they visited in college, they always had a great time. His mom sent them off each morning with fresh fruit and eggs – it was sweet; reminded Jungkook of home.

The familiar skyline arching above brings a smile to his lips. All in all, Jimin and Hoseok do not realize how lucky they are. If Jungkook lived here, he would – cutting the thought off, Jungkook sits up in his seat. Jungkook does not live here, so there is no point pretending.

Glancing down at his phone, Jungkook feels a modicum of guilt. After placing himself in airplane mode, he has not turned the device back on since he landed. Jungkook knows there will be a fresh wave of texts from his boss and for now, wishes to delay the inevitable.

“Where’s the wedding again?” Jungkook asks, turning his head.

Jimin shrugs as he rolls down his window. The night wind ruffles his hair, sending strands flying all over the place. “Some hotel by the river. Hear it has a great view.”

“And what’s the plan for the weekend?”

“Jungkook!” Jimin scolds, turning down the radio. “Did you even read the agenda Seokjin sent?”

Jungkook glances at him guiltily. “Um, I looked at it.”

Seokjin’s is Namjoon’s best man for the wedding. It makes sense – the two of them have been roommates since sophomore year of college, not to mention they both live in LA. Jungkook knows Jimin has also helped Namjoon with wedding details, since he lives in Chicago.

The look Jimin gives says he knows Jungkook is full of bullshit. “There’s a copy of the itinerary in my glove compartment,” he says with a nod. “I printed out a few just in case.”

“Why the fuck,” Jungkook grumbles as he opens the clasp. “Alright, here we go. Wednesday.”

“That’s today,” Jimin prompts.

“I know what day it is.” Jungkook clears his throat. “Alright, Wednesday. Bridesmaids and groomsmen arrive.”

“That’s us,” Jimin adds, shooting Jungkook a look.

“Yep, yep. Thursday – booze cruise. Woo! Seriously?”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “You really didn’t read this, did you?”

Ignoring him, Jungkook continues. “Friday – rehearsal ceremony and dinner. Be at the church by 4:00 PM.”

“Dressed.”

“Doesn’t seem like a necessary clarification,” Jungkook says, flipping over the paper. “Saturday, ceremony starts at 2:00 PM. Photos and reception following. Sunday, brunch.”

Jimin nods. “Don’t be late.”

“Jimin.” Jungkook lowers the sheet. “It’s Wednesday. How can you seriously tell me not to be late to brunch on Sunday?”

“Because I know you.”

“Touché.” Jungkook grins, crumpling the paper despite Jimin’s groans.

There are not many people heading into the city on a Wednesday night – turning on his blinker, Jimin switches lanes to pull off on an exit. As they slow, the buildings around them seem to stretch towards the night sky. Craning his head out the window, Jungkook exhales. When he pulls back, he finds Jimin watching.

“What?” Jungkook asks, somewhat defensive.

Jimin’s upper lip curls. “Nothing. You know, Hoseok and I’s roommate leaves at the end of the month. If you ever wanted to come to Chicago…”

Jungkook glances away. “C’mon, man. I can’t quit my job.”

“Can’t… won’t…” Jimin trails off at Jungkook’s expression in the mirror. “Anyways, the offer stands. Think about it, okay?”

Slowly, Jungkook nods. “Alright, I’ll think about.”

Jimin smiles, appeased and returns to the road. His hands stay firmly at the ten and two ‘o’clock position, which is so Jimin, it makes Jungkook smile. As they wind through the streets, Jungkook cannot help but think about what it would be like to live here.

He would probably be miserable if he simply transferred to Chicago. Maybe a little less so, since Hoseok and Jimin would be here – but nothing would really change in the long run. If he quit his job, though. Jungkook sighs. For now, that type of change remains firmly in the abstract.

“There!” Jimin squints at the building ahead. “That’s the hotel.”

[ TO BE CONTINUED ] 

© kpopfanfictrash, 2020. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[kindofcashton]

𝕕𝕚𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕟𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕕  •  chapter 3  (Calum Hood AU)

BY THE TIME we got back to the house it was far past midnight, and none of us could walk straight, except maybe Calum.  He never seemed to show just how much he drank, as his movements weren’t as clumsy and uncontrolled as the rest of ours.

I had spent the night dancing and drinking overly sweet fruity concoctions.  Calum had disappeared from the bar, which was a welcome discovery as I hated the way he always looked at me those burning eyes.  I didn’t like how self conscious and nervous I was around him, so when he was nowhere to be seen I confidently ordered my fruity drinks and actually let loose for once.

He went right up to his room once we got home, but I went into the bathroom with Hannah to change and take all of our makeup off.  Peering into the mirror, I saw my eyeliner had smudged slightly and my lip gloss was practically gone.  My cheeks were flushed from alcohol and the heat of the club, my hair tousled and not as refined as it had been when we left.  In a way, I thought I looked hot, and even cracked a smile at my reflection.

Hannah caught this in the mirror and laughed, hooking an arm around my shoulders and pulling me into a hug.

“We got this Scar, you and me.  This can be fun, I promise.”  She sounded so sincere, and I hoped some of her optimism spread to me.  I could use every bit I could get. 

I couldn’t believe just a month ago the two of us had been at school, our biggest worry being the next exam or which jock was going to hit on us in the dining hall.  My heart yearned for those times, when my future was set in stone and I knew what to expect.  I had dreams back then, dreams to help people with my career and make a positive change in someone’s life.  Studying psychology to become a social worker had been my goal for as long as I knew, and I was good at it.  My professors all told me I’d make a great counselor, and my grades reflected this.

And then, one by one, the pieces in my life began to fall apart.  My family never had much money to begin with, but my parents managed to send me to a decent college, with lots of loans of course.  I knew I’d need a job as soon as I graduated, but that over time the debt could be managed.  All of this changed when I got the phone call.  It was late at night, but I was up studying.  I had just spoken to my parents the night before for our weekly chat, and everything was fine.

How quickly those things can change.

The doctor was vague on the phone, or maybe I just couldn’t comprehend what he was telling me.  Didn’t want to comprehend it.  His words were simple, but strung together they made no sense.

What did he mean car accident?  Where were my parents even going?  How come the 18-wheeler that slammed into them didn’t stop?  Why were they the ones that got hurt, when the other driver walked away scratch free?

I knew the word coma, but I didn’t foresee all of its implications.  Brain bleed was mentioned too, as well as circling the drain.  All of these words and phrases jumbled up in my mind, until I snapped and asked what the hell he was talking about.

Needless to say, what little money we did have went towards the medical bills.  My dad died two days after the crash, the impact of the accident turning out to be too much stress on his body.  Before I’d even accepted he was gone my mom took a turn for the worse.  She hadn’t woken up after surgery, and would crash every other day.  I stopped counting the amount of times the doctors revived her, and even slept through a few of them.  

They asked what I wanted to do when she was finally pronounced brain dead.  What was I supposed to do?  A twenty-one year old college student, overwhelmed with work and the fresh death of my father, and I was asked to just unplug my mother?  Stupidly, but caught up in the petrifying stress of it all, I insisted they keep her alive.  This intensive care was expensive, and hemorrhaged every last dollar we had until I had bankers and lawyers knocking down my door.  The day I finally did say goodbye to my mother was the day my university told me I wouldn’t be able to stay if I didn’t pay the monthly fee.

Blinking rapidly, I was brought out of my nightmarish memories and back to the present.  Basically kicked out of college, with barely a cent to my name, Hannah was my lifeline.  We were quite the pair of misfits, as she had essentially flunked out of her classes and been dismissed by the principle.  The two of us made a pact to tell no one the truth, and come home like nothing happened.  I’d work to get my degree some other way, and she would try to figure out a different path.  Without her, I don’t think I would’ve survived.

“I’m gonna take a shower, unless you want to go first?” Hannah asked me, rubbing her alcohol-reddened eyes.  I shook my head, suppressing a yawn.

“I’m too exhausted, I think I’d fall asleep under the water.  I’ll take one in the morning.”

She gave me one last tight hug before I left the bathroom, holding my crumpled outfit in my hands as I crossed the hallway to my room.  The sleep shorts and oversized tee shirt I wore were a welcome change from the tight clothes, and I dumped them in the hamper before collapsing onto Michael’s bed and falling asleep within minutes.

- - - - -

I woke up to my head hammering.  This hangover was one of the worst I’d had in a while, I suppose because I hadn’t drank like that in a while.  It took all the effort I had to get out of bed and head to the shower.

Holding my bathrobe and shower supplies, I noticed the door was closed but the light wasn’t coming through the bottom, so I gave a quick knock.

As my fist collided with the wood, it suddenly swung open to reveal an angry looking Calum.  Everything in my hands fell to the floor with a clatter.  I bent down to pick them up hastily, glancing up at Calum with a frown.  His hair was wet and curly, sticking up at all angles.  A towel hung loosely from his waist, and in my half-conscious state my dreary eyes dragged down his glistening wet skin.  My stare was obvious, and it made a cruel smirk curl onto his lips.

“Morning.  You look great.”  

His comment stung, as I was sure I looked awful.  My hair was a mess, my eyes surely dark with circles and fatigue.  I sighed, and said in a tired voice, “Sorry, I was just going to take a shower.”  When I finally had all my things I stood straight up, still overwhelmed by Calum’s towering frame.

He snorted, and without another word pushed past me towards his room.  I was too jostled to react, instead just closing the door behind me and leaning back against it in defeat.  Would Calum and I ever find a common ground?

I pushed the dark-haired boy out of my mind as I turned on the water, twisting the nozzle to almost as hot as it went.  The droplets scorched my skin as I stood under the rain, washing my limp hair and exhaling in relief.  Hot showers reawakened my senses, and today I needed a boost.  Today I planned on finding a job, and I couldn’t be sleepy and hungover when meeting prospective bosses.

Climbing out of the shower into the steamy bathroom, I toweled off my damp hair and swiped a hand across the foggy mirror.  In the small strip I’d wiped away, I saw the slight bags under my eyes and a dull look in the green orbs.  I was almost glad I couldn’t see the rest of myself.

Tying off my robe, I exited the bathroom and went downstairs to get some breakfast.  Hannah was at the table reading a magazine, and Luke had his head in the fridge searching for something to eat.  Michael and Ashton had already left, and once again Calum was nowhere to be seen.

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Luke greeted her with a grin, leaning on the top of the fridge door with his forearm.  “You feeling the effects of your wild night out?”  Somehow when Luke teased me, it made me smile; the complete opposite reaction I had when Calum mocked me.

“Oh yeah, this headache is really fun.”  I instantly headed for the coffee, knowing some strong caffeine was just what I needed.

Hannah waved her magazine at Luke.  “If you think last night was wild for the two of us, think again.  We got into some crazy shit at school that you haven’t even seen yet.”  Luke put his hands up in defeat, and I shook my head and chuckled as I joined Hannah at the table.

“Oh yeah, because jello shots are really out of the box.”  I took a sip of the steaming coffee, not even caring that it burnt the tip of my tongue.

Hannah’s eyes tracked Luke behind us until he disappeared into the other room, upon which she pressed her palms to the table and sighed.

“Ashton must have asked me a million questions last night,” she hissed under her breath, and I set my mug down worriedly.

“About what?”  Even my whispered words wavered slightly.

“What do you think?  You, me, why we’re not at school right now when everybody else is.  And I know Ashton wouldn’t just ask me if the other guys hadn’t told him to, which means they’re dying to know too.”

I bit my lip, a thousand thoughts running through my head.  “What do they want to know?  I mean, we just met, I’m not gonna tell them my whole life story.”

Hannah nodded.  “I know, and I’m not exactly thrilled at the idea of telling Ashton I flunked out.”  Her voice was thick with disappointment, and I reached across the table to give her hand a sympathetic pat.  I knew Hannah was secretly really embarrassed and ashamed of her grades.  Even though Ashton never went to college himself, Hannah wanted to prove she wasn’t an idiot, since he was always considered the smart one of the pair.  She also couldn’t face her parents, as they would surely throttle her if they found out she left school.

I sighed, and ran a nervous hand through my damp hair.  “Look, I have every intention of going back once I sort things out, and I’m sure if you can figure out a different school and just lie and say you transferred.”

She laughed darkly.  “Transferred to a community college?  Oh yeah, I’ll be a laughing stock to my family.”  Hannah shook her head, as if to clear these negative thoughts.  “Whatever, that’s not important right now.  But you’re sure you want to keep the stuff about your parents quiet?  No one would judge you, Scar, if anything they’d--”

“Pity me,” I interjected.  “They would pity me, and that is the last thing I want from the guys.  I want their respect first, and then maybe I’ll tell them.”

Hannah shrugged.  “Whatever you say, but it can’t be healthy to bottle it all up inside--”

“Bottle what up inside?”

Of course Calum strode in at this very moment.  He had changed into joggers and a black muscle tee with holes around the collar.  His hair had dried and was thick around his forehead.  He reached for the coffee and as he poured himself a cup, his mocking brown eyes watched us at the table.

“We’re talking about emotions and feelings, Calum, something you would never be able to understand,” Hannah fired back, causing him to scowl.

“Damn, ouch,” Luke laughed as he reentered.  “What a lovely morning this is shaping up to be.

The four of us ate in relative silence.  I was glad when Luke sat next to me so that Calum couldn’t.  He sat diagonal to me, eating the same frosted cereal as yesterday.  I was sick of the quiet in the room, and decided to speak up.

“I’m gonna go see about that job at the cafe,” I informed them.  “Never too soon to start earning money.”

Luke set his orange juice on the table.  “I would offer you a ride, but Mike and I share the station wagon and he’s already gone.  Same with Ashton.”

Hannah’s piercing blue eyes slid to Calum next to her, who hadn’t looked up.  When he realized we were waiting for him, he glared across the table.

“What, I’m supposed to jump at volunteering?”

I repressed a sigh.  I didn’t exactly want Calum to drive me, but clearly that was the simplest answer.  However, I wasn’t about to show him I relied on him and let him toy with this like he always did.  Instead, I shook my head.

“No, I don’t want a ride.  I think it’ll do me good to figure out the bus system.  I don’t ever wanna rely on any of you for a ride, you already do too much.”

Hannah and Luke nodded while Calum rolled his eyes and returned his attention to his cereal.  Straightening my posture, I refused to let his rudeness affect me.  I needed to be confident today, and someone like Calum knew just how to strip this away.

I left breakfast to get ready, opting for a nice pair of jeans and simple sweater with a jacket.  I liked looking put together and composed; it helped me feel that way on the inside.  

“Wish me luck,” I called at the front door, and I saw Luke give me a thumbs up from the kitchen.

“Go get ‘em, girl!” Hannah yelled.  Calum remained stoically silent.

There was a bus stop at the corner of the street, and I pulled up the schedule on my phone.  Hannah had given me the address, and I was pleased to see it wasn’t far at all.  God, I hope I get the job, I thought, chewing my lip.  It would make this stressful time that much easier.

The bus came and I took a seat close to the back, peering out the window and familiarizing myself with the area.  It was a great city, and a part of me could see settling down here.

No, the goal is college, I reminded myself.  This is meant to be extremely temporary.  And besides, no matter how much I liked the city it would always feel like I was borrowing it.  It belonged to Hannah and the guys, the same way the house did.  I would always be a guest here, would never feel like I was really meant to stay.

The cafe was earthy and quaint, and upon stepping through the door I was hit by a waft of roasted coffee.  There was in fact a hiring sign outside, with quite a few exclamation marks, which would hopefully work in my favor.

I approached the counter confidently.  “Hi, I heard you guys were hiring and was wondering if I could fill out an application?”

The worker looked relieved once I asked.  He was around my age, with black earrings and a nose ring.  His name tag read Roger.  “Thank god.  Mack was convinced we’d never find an applicant.  Hold on, I’ll get him for you now.”

I smiled, pleasantly surprised at his enthusiastic answer.  A minute passed, and Roger returned with an older man, who thankfully didn’t look too intimidating.  He had graying hair and a bushy mustache, and smelled strongly off baking scones.

“You’re here about the job?”  He got straight to the point, and I smiled as I pushed a lock of hair behind my ear.

“Yes, absolutely.  I have my resume right here, and was just hoping to get an interview today, whatever you wanted.”

Mack waved his hand dismissively.  “Lemme see the resume.”  I reached into my bag and pulled it out, handing it over with a breathless grin.

“I’m still enrolled in college,” I said quickly, embellishing my story slightly.  “I’m earning credits for my degree from home right now.”  I hoped the explanation sounded mature and not like an excuse I was desperately trying to push.

Mack studied the paper in a matter of seconds, and slapped it on the counter.  Roger was grinning behind him, arms folded.

“I’m gonna be honest with you,” Mack started, and I nodded.  “I really need the help right now.  Normally, I’d screen a few applicants and worry about experience and whatnot, but I just don’t have the time.  So how about I give you a two week test run, and if I think you’re a good fit I’ll hire you officially?”

I had to stop my jaw from dropping to the floor.  How is it this easy? I thought, thinking surely there must be a catch.  Glancing around, I saw that the cafe was well attended and pretty nice overall, which was encouraging.  The only downside to Mack’s offer was the lack of pay for two weeks, but that was honestly fair with such an easy application process.

“Deal,” I said, extending my hand for a shake.  Mack smiles hugely and shook my hand, eyes twinkling.

“You just saved me an awful lotta stress, Scarlett,” he said.  “I really hope you’re the one for the job.”

I left after thanking him again profusely, and had to hold in a squeal.  I called Hannah immediately to gush about my success, and she said we had to celebrate.  We spent the day window shopping and trying on expensive clothes we’d never buy, but she made me swear I’d buy a tight cream colored dress once I got my first paycheck.  Hannah insisted it made me look like a million bucks, and I had to admit I liked that idea.

By the time we got home it was well after dinner and the guys had disbanded.  Michael and Luke texted saying they were with some friends getting a drink, and with Calum’s missing mustang I assumed he was with them.  Hannah got a surprise call from her parents once we walked through the door and hastily ran downstairs to take it.  A few times I heard her raise her voice to a yell, and I knew they must have found out about her leaving school.

Poor Hannah, I thought as I brushed my teeth, staring into the mirror.  I looked radically different from this morning; though I still had on an oversized tee shirt and shorts, my eyes were sparking with confidence and exuberance at getting a job, and the hangover had finally cleared along with the dark circles.  My cheery mood continued as I strolled downstairs, starving as I decided to make a simple sandwich and catch up on some reading.

The yelling stopped and I assumed Hannah had gone to bed, so I was peacefully alone in the kitchen with my book.  I was so engrossed in it I barely heard the front door open.  Unfortunately, I couldn’t ignore Calum swaggering into the kitchen to grab a beer, and I swallowed a bite of my sandwich nervously.

“Hey,” I said tentatively, praying he wouldn’t be mean for once.  Something was off about his appearance; his tee shirt was wrinkled and his belt wasn’t fully done on his jeans.  His hair was super messy and his eyes were glazed, and I spotted a dark mark on his neck.

Oh.

“Why are you still awake?  It’s like 3am.”  He flipped open his beer and took a swig, taking in my appearance at the table.

I hugged my knee closer to my chest and shrugged, a few pieces of hair escaping my bun to block my eyes.  “Not really tired.”

He met my eyes, and I tried to hide the fact that I knew what he’d just come home from.  He didn’t seem as cocky as normal, his hook-up actually subduing his sharp attitude.  I still felt wildly uncomfortable under his close brown gaze though, and it took everything in me not to shy away.

Finally, he broke the stare to take another sip of beer.  “Goodnight, Scarlett,” he said before disappearing upstairs, and I stayed rooted to the spot in shock for a few moments more.

I don’t know what shocked me more; his lack of cruel comments or the fact that he’d actually used my name for the first time.

[star-anise]

I'm in my last year of undergrad and I feel like everything has gone to shit. The past year and a half have been awful, i have depression, anxiety and im almost positive i have ADHD too. I feel like such a piece of shit because I keep asking for the extensions on projects and exams, and I'm afraid I'm gonna be this way forever. Sorry this is a lot but do you have any advice on how to take the first step in digging myself out of this hole ive created?

Okay, so it seems like you came in via this post. That’s pretty much my philosophy here. I don’t know if you’re gonna “be this way forever” or not--I know I will probably be the way I am (depressed, anxious, with ADHD) forever, but that isn’t necessarily the same as being a trash disaster on academic probation forever.

I’ll be honest, I kind of feel like after a year and a half, you’re kind of an expert on what you can do with two hands and a shovel. You’ve been digging yourself out as fast as you can, and it’s been a real struggle. I think it’s time for you to get actual help, as in, other people. Reaching out to me was a good first step. I can help you decide where to go from here.   

Keep it simple and take it slow. If you don’t know where to find any of this stuff, feel free to private message me your school’s website; I have a minor knack for reading organizational structures.

For the next week, pick ONE OR TWO of the following options. Even if they’re all good ideas, keep your goals manageable. And then, of those one or two, pick one or two SMALL ACTIONS you can do to pursue them, like looking up a number in your student handbook or making an appointment. If you do more, that’s great, but the siren song of our people is, “I’m gonna accomplish so much!” 

Without further ado: Some Options For Help

Your school’s Disability Services/Accessibility Office/Office of Inclusion/whatever they call it

You’re looking for the office that helps Deaf/Blind/mobility-impaired students succeed in school. Mental health falls under the same category. It’s their job to make sure your school is providing you with as much chance at an education as it would provide to someone who’s totally neurotypical. Tell them what you told me.

Stuff they can do:

Tell you what your school’s requirement is for documenting a disability

Give you information on local assessment and treatment options--what psych professionals locally are good? Is there a fund somewhere that will cover your testing? Does the student health centre have a psychiatrist?

Provide you with a letter that tells your instructors that giving extensions, having flexible schedules, or dropping penalties for non-attendance is a legal requirement to accommodate you. This is not necessarily a free pass--a professor may decide that some things are mandatory or non-negotiable--but it is an easy way to bring these problems up early, before they become an issue.

Help find your or fund you a tutor (more on this later)

Help you find other resources and services on your campus

Your school’s Counselling Centre/Wellness Services/Social Work Office/wherever they hide the shrinks

This is the place where they offer free counselling. If there’s walk-in, go to walk-in; if they can book an appointment in a week, go in a week; if there’s a three-month waitlist, get your name on the waitlist.

Funny story--I had graduated undergrad before I realized that students got free counselling on-campus. I’d been in therapy since I was 16, but five years of undergrad? Yeah, no clue. I was looking for therapists on Psychology Today and shelling out hundreds of dollars out of pocket, and there were hot and cold running therapists under my very nose.

In fact, there might be more than just therapists. The school I worked at had regular counsellors, and also a Learning Specialist, whose job included teaching people with executive function disorders like depression and ADHD how to study effectively!  It’s worth asking about.

When you see one of these people, it’s very tempting to think they are An Adult Who Is The Boss Of You. They will look at you, understand you with their expert knowledge, tell you what your deal is, and give you instructions on what to do now!  

In reality, therapists are not Sherlock Holmes, or profilers on TV. We can’t just look at you and go, “I see by the way you button your coat that you’re a middle child and ambiguity makes you uncomfortable.”  We rely a lot on “client report”--on what you say is true. Psychological assessment is a process involving interaction, not a detached observation of stable qualities. If a therapist says something about you that seems inaccurate, it is beneficial and good to say, “No, actually, I think you’re mistaken. To me, it looks more like...”

You’re recruiting an experienced co-traveller to go on a trip with you. They know a lot about rocks and trails and climbing harness, but they don’t know the territory you’ll be travelling together. So first and foremost, you want to find someone you want to go on a trip with: a therapist who is a good fit for you.

If you don’t like your assigned therapist, ask for a new one. We have an ethical responsibility to provide referrals when we can’t provide someone with the treatment they need, and since a good client-therapist relationship predicts therapy outcome like 70% of the time, simply not liking or trusting your therapist is a good enough reason to try somebody new. If you want you can just email them after the session and say, “I don’t think you and I quite clicked. With what you know now of my personality and issues, is there someone else in your office you can refer me to?”

Medication. Different medication.

Not gonna lie, going on antidepressants was like... getting the inside of my brain whitewashed. There was so much space. So much room. I could think and feel without being constantly smothered in negativity! And going on ADHD meds on top of that was like.. the thoughts that had always been slippery, unable to grasp or manipulate, suddenly became solid in my hands. I could grip them, slow them down, tell them to go somewhere else.

Both times, it took five to ten adjustments to get to the right cocktail and dosage. For example, I was on an antidepressant that stopped me from crying and freaking out all the time but killed my creative drive, so we added a drug that gave me more energy so I could write again. Then money got tight, we tried me on a generic, found that didn’t work, and found a way to pay for the first version. Each time, it meant seeing the doctor, trying a dose for two weeks or a month, and then going back to report progress and try adjusting it again.

Again: It’s a process, an interaction. It’s something you get a say in. And if you’re currently on meds--well, let me just say: If you sent me an ask like that, your meds aren’t doing their job. They’re not the right ones for you. So it’s time for an adjustment.

If you can get to or afford a psychiatrist, great! A general practitioner who’s known you for a while will often do. And if you need to, well, I’ve gotten my meds adjusted by a different doctor every time at a walk-in family practice clinic. You do what you can. Information on who and what is available is often why Disability Services is a great resource--who knows, maybe there’s a psychiatrist on campus you can see for free who sees the depression/anxiety/ADHD trifecta all the time!

(General life tip: When they give you an assessment for depression, anxiety, or ADHD, don’t downplay your symptoms. Answer the way you would on a bad day or when you’re struggling. Of course you know how to cope with these challenges, but the unfair part is that you have to cope with them at all)

A tutor or academic coach

This never occurred to me for a long long time, because I was always a “smart kid”, and I always thought tutors were for people who didn’t intellectually grasp the material. Meanwhile: Surprise! I have a developmental disability that significantly impacts my learning! My grad school put me on academic probation and effectively foisted a person of this job description on me, and it was the BEST THING EVER.

If you’ve ever felt like you would work so much better if only you had someone sitting there all the time making you work? Or a sympathetic friend who could help you break it down and be less overwhelming? If the only time you get your work done is when someone else asks you about it? This is the person for you.

Most schools provide these services to students for free, or subsidize disabled students’ tutoring. If all else fails, you can find a tutor on your own and say, “I get this stuff intellectually, but I really need someone who makes me spend time with it, because left to myself I’d get anxious and ignore it all until the night before the deadline.”

If you have good friends who can do this for you, that’s great too--but the biggest objection to the post that brought you here is, “I’m depressed and socially anxious--I don’t HAVE anybody to help!”  So this post is aimed at linking you up to people whose explicit job it is to help you--people you, your insurance, or your tuition dollars directly pay for.

[nycrollasintreatment]

Copycat

While putting away clean laundry I was listening to a lecture on suicide. The speaker started going into celebrity suicide notes. Naturally it planted a seed for me to look into this on my own. My therapy session is in less than 48 hours, and it would a good follow up to a video that triggered themes from #OutOfTheBlueIntoTheBlack. After my therapy session I went back and watched the rest of the video. After this white freshman shares that he's an ambassador at Morehouse College, you see him interacting with potential students and their families before going on a campus. Out of all the triggers in that YouTube video (including steppers) I can only define that section in particular as high grade SuiFuel.

Sometimes it's not easy to return to a writing after taking a break from it. In the process of tweeting something I somehow managed to tie it to the trailer for School Daze. With that said it's a relief to know that the focus of this is further down the timeline. It focuses more on the effect rather than the cause.

My sleep schedule can be erratic, but it has improved. Even with yoga adding structure to my day for the past three years, marijuana has a way of fucking with your circadian rhythm. #WakingUpInMelbourne was an incentive to keep off the grass.

Yesterday consisted of a far fetched goal of making it to a Sunday afternoon yoga class. In the recent past, my rule of never going out the door sleep deprived is only broken when it involves my medication. It's one thing to feel sluggish after eating. The added layer of sleep deprivation really had me feeling like shit. After lying in bed, my mind drifted further into a mental hole. Virginia Woolfe's suicide note did a pretty good job describing where my head was.

"I feel certain I am going mad again. I feel we can’t go through another of those terrible times. And I shan’t recover this time. I begin to hear voices, and I can’t concentrate. So I am doing what seems the best thing to do."

The easiest way to go about this is one line at a time. I can't help but think of the bonding experience I had with the other best men at my friend's wedding. It's easier to joke than do intense soul searching. College can best be described as an experience where I went mad. While talking to a friend on Facebook, I mentioned that I almost needed a tracheostomy. Drugs kinda played that role. The trauma had me feeling like I was holding my breath. These substances may have been bad, but they were a short term breathing solution when everything else failed. One song I played on the piano was Enya's Only Time. The distance time creates can help, but at a certain point you need to take the next step.

I'd rather take the next step of intravenous drug use than relive the horrors of the past. It's really hard to think about recovering from the mind state I was in back in 2003. #LessThanHuman will go into more details about recent experiences and my efforts in not having history repeat itself.

#InTheHeights I told this 19 year old "I may not be able to convince you that God exists, but I knew the devil existed when a voice in my head wanted me to kill someone." Even though he knew my head wasn't screwed on straight, neither of us knew it was to this extent. There's been pressure put on me since graduating, but my biggest fear is taking it a step further like the Son of Sam. He was obeying orders to kill from a barking dog. One lesson that can be learned from the .44 caliber killer is steer clear of Satanic cults.

It's a fucking dumb idea to have your therapist read about "So I am doing what seems the best thing to do." Not long after taking a trip to the G.W. bridge on my birthday, I had to make a convincing argument to be let out of the rubber rooms. Even though there's no drugs currently in my system, I don't need first responders telling me to get in the ambulance. It'll be a waste of everybody's time.