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scribblingfangirl · 4 years

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WITH LOVE, THE GOSTS | Julie and The Phantoms - Part Three

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Author’s Note: I decided that this fic trilogy occurs a year after the season one final, making Julie and Y/N almost (or already) 17. Also… this part turned out waaay longer than expected. Which is why there is going to be a fourth part because I have one last idea but didn’t want to rush to write it. And to think this all started because of a rushed (haha) 1k Oneshot. I should really start to write more spontaneously, it seems like good things come out of it. Anyway, Enjoy! :D

word count: ~ 3.9k

summary: Even after meeting the boys they still aren’t tired of helping you out and they each have their own little ways to do it.

warnings: // (english is not my first language, not beta-read)

| PART ONE | PART TWO |

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Knowing that ghosts existed was an absurd feeling (even though you had always believed or hoped that there was more out there than just this world, especially with all those planets that had been discovered by NASA), but knowing that there were three certain ghosts that liked you enough to kindly haunt you, well… that was just plain unimaginable somehow. Yet, still less anxiety awakening than you expected.

After Julie let you meet the guys for the first time you thought you were prepared to accept that you would not be able to talk to them unless they played something (after all, you had Flynn to groan about that), but the occasional giggle from Julie and her glances into nothing still sent chills down your spine.

So you started to always look around very suspiciously whenever you were over at her house and make obscene hand movements just to be sure that the boys would move before you walked somewhere or sat down (which just earned chuckles from Flynn and annoyed sighs from Julie - “Just because you can’t see them, doesn’t mean they can’t see you. They know where you are, so please stop, or else my dad will call your parents and send you to Dr Turner as well.” The boys found it hilarious and liked to imitate you whenever they came too close to you.)

The boys also still kept doing little things for you, just not so in secret anymore (though… Reggie was never one for subtlety). Whenever you seemed to have had a bad day (or whenever they just wanted to make you smile) you knew you could count on them having something prepared for you.

You soon discovered that anything related to food (which sometimes were extremely odd and bizarre combinations) was Luke’s doing (except for pizza and meatballs, according to Julie that was always Reggie). And you knew it was Alex whenever it was something more calm and soothing, yet sometimes a little bit clumsy. And whenever it was blatantly obvious and/or slightly weird (in a good way!) it was Reggie.

Well, no. Not always in a good way. One time you came back from school and your whole room was filled with glitter and butterflies and a small note with a little ‘Sorry!’ on it was pinned to your desk - cleaning that had been a pain in the a-. But you couldn’t be angry at Reggie, even though you weren’t quite sure what his ultimate goal would have been.

Speaking of REGGIE...

All those helpful little deeds and nice gestures were always done within the limits of your house (mostly room) or Julie’s house and the studio, which is why you almost let out a loud yelp when suddenly during a math test your pen started to move on his own, filling out the empty space (because yes, you hadn’t been doing very much other than staring helplessly at the paper in front of you). Quickly you grabbed the pen as well (loosely and while trying to ignore the fact that you were practically holding hands with one of the guys) so that nobody would see a floating pen as you did a few weeks ago at Christmas.

From the corners of your eyes, you saw Julie slightly move her head towards you, as if she was listening to you - or rather someone right beside or behind you. ‘Of course. I can’t see them, so the only way to help me is by physically grabbing the pen, but Julie can hear and see them, so they (whoever this is - because let’s be honest, none of the guys really looks like a math genius) only have to tell her the corrects solutions and how to get there. My money’s on Alex.’

You were kind of shocked, and weirdly proud when Julie came up to you after class and said: “Reggie’s not so questionable after all, huh?” (Though… you should’ve guessed it, you did say subtlety wasn’t Reggie’s strong suit.) So you just giggled and shook your head while leaving some of your books in your locker (alongside the fact that Reggie was probably almost (if not!) hugging you from behind - you shuddered at that thought, it’s not like you were already awkward around living boys your age, no need to add ghosts to that list!)

A week later you and Julie entered the studio with blank faces and hanging shoulders. Julie threw a weak little wave towards the piano and sighed while you threw the blankets and snacks you were holding carelessly on the ground and let yourself fall face-first onto the couch, not being able to hide your smile anymore.

“We got our math exams back… yes the one Reggie helped us with.”

You couldn’t see what Julie was doing, but you heard her gasp and whisper “No! Reggie…” after a while. Then she was standing beside you, nudging your shoulder and willing you to sit up, but you didn’t bulge, needing a few more seconds to wipe the smile off your face again.

Faking to disgruntledly accept defeat as Julie’s nudges got stronger (the couch was really comfortable, you totally understood Luke now) you sat up and looked at Julie. “Who’s going to tell them?” you said with a heavy voice and felt how the couch dipped beside you. Raising your eyebrows you quickly glanced to the side (obviously not seeing anybody or anything) and looked back at Julie questioningly.

She nodded, telling you that it was indeed Reggie and gave you the okay to drop the bomb.

You sighed as you turned back around, facing the wall on the other side of the studio and hoped that Reggie would ignore the fact that you were probably talking to his ear or something. “So Reggie… the help you gave us on the math final? Well…,” you couldn’t keep your face straight any longer and jumped onto the couch, “WE ACED IT! I WOULD HUG YOU IF YOU WEREN’T MADE OUT OF CUTE AIR!” (Okay… maybe there was a little bit too much serotonin involved.)

Julie added smiling, “And I’m happy to announce that due to my good grades my father allowed Julie and The Phantoms to play at the upcoming Summer Music Festival!”

A guitar riff filled the studio, followed by a short drum intro and with a ‘puff!’ the boys appeared in front of you, beaming and glowing at the news. Reggie even threw a wink at you when you smiled back and said: “Thank you!”

Don't look down 'Cause we're still rising Up right now And even if we hit the ground We'll still fly Keep dreaming like we'll live forever But live it like it's now or never!

This allowed LUKE…

The music festival was an experience you would never forget. You were very happy Ray managed to persuade your parents to let you accompany Julie (sadly Flynn had no such luck). Not only did you turn 17 and the boys made sure to have the whole crowd sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to you (as soon as you were back home you would add an extra point to your to-do: ‘find out how to kill ghosts a second time’), but the boys rocked the stage and Julie stood up taller and shined brighter than ever before.

Gone (yet not forgotten) were the painful shocks and the fear of never performing again and the serenity of the guys was visible.

It was the last night of the music festival when Julie got the phone call from her father. He would come by to get her the next morning and they would drive directly to visit other family members and spend the rest of the summer holidays there.

Of course, Julie was excited to see her cousins and aunts and uncles again, but she also felt bad to leave you to drive back alone (you had come with your car jam-packed with all the necessary equipment you needed and that wasn’t provided by the festival).

“Don’t worry! It’s only a four-hour drive! I’ve got good music, podcasts and audiobooks to keep me company and back home Flynn will be waiting. It sadly looks like I’m going to survive without you.”

Early the next morning Julie and some newfound fans of Julie and The Phantoms helped you load the equipment into your car and you said goodbye to Julie. Expecting the boys to just directly puff back to Los Feliz you didn’t waste any time and entered your car, connected your phone with the stereo and started to blast your favourite Broadway musicals.

You must’ve been on the road for half an hour when suddenly the playlist stopped and ‘Wake Up’ started to play.

So wake that spirit, spirit!

Confused you scrunched up your nose and touched the touch screen displaying the music system, trying to change it back to your playlist. But instead, the music changed yet again.

(Don't stop me now) 'Cause I'm having a good time (Don't stop me now) Yes, I'm havin' a good time I don't want to stop at all

“What the hell?” you muttered, staring at your stereo for a quick second before focusing back on the road, “Why you always going crazy on me dude?”

Once again the music switched.

Why you gotta be so rude? Don't you know I'm human too?

It took you a hot minute to understand what was going on and then you couldn’t stop laughing.

Don't laugh at me, don't call me names Don't get your pleasure from my pain

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said mockingly, looking at the empty passenger seat, guessing that that’s where your invisible friend was sitting. “Your pain? I’m not the one who is able to puff wherever and whenever their heart desires and who sneaks up on innocent people.”

Silence.

“For what it’s worth. I’m sorry. I really am. It’s not like you choose this life, you deserved better than this. But I’m really glad I was able to get to know you. I’m really thankful for the light and happiness you brought back into Julie’s life.”

Don't you worry 'bout a thing

But I'm still learnin' to

using technology

You laughed. “Impressive skills nevertheless. Knowing three fitting songs and then changing them at the right time? Let me guess, Luke? Because I don’t think all of you three would fit into my tiny car full of musical equipment.”

At first, there was no music yet again, but then the slow melody of a (for you) well-known song flooded your car. It was the one Trevor Wilson song you never understood until you met the boys, the one song that was so totally different to his usual rock sound (except for the refrains, which, as you later would find out, were parts of the original lyrics Luke wrote for his version of the song).

I sing to remember the stories that used to be But I don’t write to create what could have been And as I scream words into the darkness around me They come out like a dying whisper

The kindest thing to do is to silence them and let them die To unleash my heartfelt sorrow into the sky And diminish the will to fight That pulses like fire and screams with pain through my veins

But life’s not always beautiful, it’s rare So I’mma chase it, watch you make it

Don’t need to introduce himself You will want to know his name Pushing your foundations down He is here to stay

Don’t call him a breeze when he’s a hurricane Don’t call him a tremble when he’s an earthquake Don’t call him an inconvenience Please just say his name

Leaving lyrics in my hands That I swallow like pills Like hurtful words, they rip and claw And press painfully against my chest

But no matter how painful they are I will soak them up, thinking of our hopes and wishes And as each word pushes a new pulse through my veins I keep staring out on the grave of our shared space of mind

Life’s not always beautiful, but it’s rare So I’mma chase it, watch you make it

Don’t need to introduce himself You will want to know his name Pushing your foundations down He is here to stay

Don’t call him a spark when he’s a lightning bolt Don’t call him a flicker when he’s a raging flame Don’t you dare to underestimate him Please just say his name

But even when the word flood finally comes to an end Fidgeting hands remind me of music never played

I owe him my voice I owe him my sound

So I give him this time I give him this space To sing it out loud To let him declare And let me be proud

What’s his name? (His name is Luke!) What’s his name? (His name is Luke!) What’s his name? (His name is Luke!)

How long do we say his name? (Until we explode!)

My name is Luke! (Tell your friends!)

Tears were rolling down your cheeks, the song now more emotional than ever before. You couldn’t imagine how this song must affect Luke. Thinking that his bandmate abandoned him (which honestly… he kind of did, only mentioning him in one song, not giving any money to their parents and so on) up until he heard the song for the first time.

“Luke…”

Forget about it Let's forget about it

The ensuing silence wasn’t awkward. You hummed along to the music Luke selected, sometimes it were old classics (probably his favourites), other times it seemed to be random newer hits he probably never heard before mixed with some songs from your favourite playlists.

It was nearing midday and your stomach made itself known. As if on cue a road sign hinted at a diner just up ahead. Setting the blinker you pulled into the parking lot a few moments later.

“I hope you don’t mind. I know home’s only like an hour away, but...” you began to trail off, not knowing where to look at and your stomach finished your sentence. And before you were able to grab the door handle it sprung wide open.

“Uh, what a gentleman. Thank you very much.”

The meal was over in a flash and once more you realised how much the boys actually knew about you without having actually interacted with you (perks of seeing other people without being seen themselves?).

It’s like Luke could read your wishes just from your facial expressions. Whenever you needed salt or pepper they were right there. Whenever something was too salty or had too much pepper on your drink was being pushed closer to your side. And when you accidentally spilt something and needed more napkins they magically appeared.

When you then spotted a cute little guitar keychain that reminded you of Luke that was being sold as a souvenir at the check-out it was suddenly safely tucked into your back pocket (though that was really really risky, and while you did not condone it you couldn’t really stop a ghost).

Back in your car, you didn’t even bother to turn on the stereo, knowing that Luke would take over as soon as your hands were on the steering wheel again.

However, a glance to your right presented you with a map of your surroundings, a big x hastily drawn over the Silverwood Lake in San Bernardino, which was basically just around the corner.

“You want to go swimming? We- I just ate! And my bathing suit is somewhere under that mountain of equipment on the backseat.”

Let's just get naked, just for a laugh Let's just get naked It's a trip and a half

You laughed at that, rolling your eyes and shaking your head, before stowing the map away and turning on the car. “I guess catching Reggie in the shower isn’t enough anymore?”

Hey!

“You started making it weird buddy.”

It had started to rain when you finally pulled up in your driveway, but you couldn’t be bothered to rush inside, enjoying the feeling of the cooling wetness on your skin.

“Look at that,” you said to nobody in particular, not knowing if Luke was still around or if he puffed back to the garage, “I didn’t even need to go swimming after all.”

He was. Sitting in the passenger seat, face on his arms while he leaned on the open car window, he watched you dance in the rain with a smile on his face. He was glad he decided to stick around and keep you company on that road trip. You gave him the courage to listen to My Name Is Luke for the first time (and getting to see you smile while showing off his impressive music knowledge was a bonus too). Because without knowing, you were doing little deeds for the boys too.

And made ALEX…

Whoever wrote that “Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass. It's about learning how to dance in the rain”-quote totally forgot to mention how dangerous small summer storms can be.

Well sure, it might have been your fault for staying out for too long and deciding to let the sun that came out a little bit later dry you instead of changing into fresh and dry clothes, but whatever happened happened and you got sick. (It’s not like you had anything better to do during the last few days of your summer holidays, right?)

Flynn had been a great friend and hung out almost daily at your house, playing board games, watching movies or tv or even just discussing upcoming Julie and The Phantoms possibilities with you. But your dearest little helper had been Alex.

The blond drummer had turned into the tall brother you never had but always wanted (focus on tall because the age thing with ghosts is seriously confusing) even if he was invisible to you 100% of the time. You had the same interests and were able to bond without actually having to say any words, little gestures and reciprocations on your side were more than enough.

Julie had come up with an easy solution and had bought you some of those sound buzzers (like the ones that dogs and cats use to communicate with their owners) and recorded some simple words and phrases the boys liked to use on them. Now the boys just had to press them to be able to communicate with you without having to use pen and paper or Julie herself (sure your parents were a little bit weary and confused, but you said it was for a longer school research project and that shut them up).

Now, feeling way better than during the last few days, but still very tired, you were sitting in your bed, not really focused on the tv show (or was it a movie?) that was playing on your computer. You had been contemplating and mentally preparing yourself to get something to eat and to drink for the past 15 minutes, but the thoughts alone were exhausting and binding you to the bed. Just then a tray with a water bottle, meds and a fruit bowl floated into your room.

Suddenly wide awake and full of energy you clumsily jumped out of your bed and grabbed the tray, throwing a quick glance out of the door to see if your parents were around and slammed the door shut, wincing at the loud sound and hoping that Alex had walked out of the way (not that it would have hurt him, but you know - rude).

“Rude.”

See? He thought the same. (Julie had to specifically add this word for Alex.)

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. But I would like not to get murdered or have Sam and Dean Winchester on my back because my parents think I’m possessed and need to be exorcised.”

“Me.”

“You what?”

“Me.”

“Alex… I need more context.”

“I do. Me.”

You just blinked blankly at the sound buzzers, trying to piece together what Alex was trying to say.

“Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. M-”

“THAT’S ENOUGH Y/N! WHATEVER THAT SCHOOL PROJECT IS, TELL IT I HEARD IT AND I DON’T CARE WHAT IT WANTS!” you heard your father's scream come muffled through the door.

The audience laughter from sitcoms filled your room and you groaned, grabbing a pillow and smashing it against your face.

Faintly you heard the telltale sound of a pen scribbling something on paper and when you peeked from behind the pillow a note was floating in the air in front of you. “You mean exorcise ME! You would be the one surviving!”

“What? Oh my god… yeah okay, YOU get exorcised… same thing. Both aren’t allowed to happen. Forgive my fever brain.”

“No.”

“Fork you, Alex.”

“No.”

“I have Carlos on speed-dial, I’m sure he already came up with other methods to get rid of ghosts other than the salt thing. He already told me that he’s sorry and that he thinks I might get haunted by you too with the amount of time I spend at their house.”

“No. Food.”

Confused at that topic change it took you a few seconds to answer. “What?” Looking around your gaze landed on the tray that you had deposited on your desk. “Oh right! Boy, I completely forgot how thirsty and hungry I am. Did I say thank you? Fang u!” you mumbled with your mouth full of fruit.

“No. Food.”

You swallowed down your food and took a big gulp of water. “Yes Alex, thank you. I am eating. You see? Here I am, here’s the food. The food is here and now whoops - ifs gan!”

You could basically feel the annoyance radiating from the ghost and weren’t really shocked when the pen started to scribble something down again.

“No! Argh!” He really wrote Argh… that dork really wrote Argh! “You can be worse than Reggie sometimes, but you do it on purpose and I’m just sorry for Reggie. A) Carlos thinks he got rid of us by making a french dip and B) You’re awfully lively for a supposedly sick person. I might need to use the buzzers more and see what other reactions I can provoke from your parents.”

Crumbling the note in your hands you thought ‘Challenge accepted’. “You know what? I think I’mma go back on Reggie’s offer and actually let him introduce me to Wilbur. He might know some stuff I could use to blackmail you. And you’re right! I feel much better, just very tired, but that’s nothing a little bit of fresh air can’t fix! Toodles!”

You left your room, leaving a flabbergasted ghost behind who had lost his snapback with the number of times he had been combing through his hair with his hands. And while angrily pressing a pink buzzer, the buzzer wasn't the only thing that screamed “WILLIAM!” after the girl. (That was another important sound Alex wanted to have recorded.)

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Taglist: @sunsetcurvej @ifilwtmfc

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #jatp x reader #julie and the phantoms x reader #luke patterson x reader #reggie peters x reader #alex mercer x reader #jatp imagine #julie and the phantoms imagine #jatp fanfiction #julie and the phantoms fanfiction #jatp one shot #jatp oneshot #julie and the phantoms oneshot #julie and the phantoms one shot #my writing #viascribbles

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iloveyoualeclightwood · 2 years

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i only managed to watch the first 5 mins of the new gentleman jack last night and it already gave me more serotonin than the last two seasons of killing eve combined lmfao

#when i saw her striding across my screen again… <3

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jae-bummer · 5 years

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The Silence of Growing

Request: Qhh!! Open requests? Well seeing as you write Yongguk better than anyone else I've read, could I please request #2 yongguk?

Prompt:

2) “Well, you certainly proved a point. I’m just not sure if it was the one that you wanted.”

Pairing: BAP Yongguk x Reader

Genre: Angst/Fluff

. Yongguk's POV

Pulling down on the hemline of his oversized, knit cardigan, Yongguk smiled at himself, taking in the image of his grin reflected back at him. He swiveled in front of the mirror one last time before nodding to himself.

Good.

He had never been the type to necessarily double, or in this case, triple check his outfit selections, but today felt different. There was a fall feeling in the air making him nearly giddy with the weather change. While some people experienced seasonal depression when the colder months hit, he seemed to have the opposite reaction. As soon as the first autumn breeze rustled past his hair, he was a different man.

"Who are you trying to look good for?" Jongup asked, lifting a brow.

Yongguk spun toward his friend lounging in the sitting area of their shared apartment. "Thank you for confirming how I good I look."

"That didn't answer my question," the younger man sighed, keeping from rolling his eyes.

"I guess I didn't realize that you expected an answer," Yongguk smirked.

"If you avoid the question, I'm just going to assume you're going to see Y/n," he muttered. Glancing toward Himchan, Jongup nodded in solidarity with the fellow friend who had now joined them in the small living room.

"You guys going on a date?" Himchan asked, glancing up at Yongguk as he plopped beside Jongup.

"We don't like to put labels on things," Yongguk hummed, checking his vibrating phone.

Y/N: I'm here.

Yongguk hastily tapped on his screen that he would be down in a moment before looking toward his friends again. "I'm not saying that there is anything wrong if we did want to put a label on our...friendship, but-"

"Relationship," Himchan corrected. "Call it what it is."

"He hates that word," Jongup grinned. "Commitment issues."

"I disagree," Yongguk said softly. "I am not afraid of commitment, I am-"

"He's afraid of what happens if the other person isn't as committed," Himchan finished. "Our softie would never admit it, but he's afraid of a broken heart."

"My heart will never break over some torrid liaison," Yongguk sighed. "Heartbreak is reserved for much more important things."

"I wonder how Y/n would feel about being called a torrid liaison," Jongup clucked.

"You won't have to wonder if we ask," Himchan teased.

"You won't have to ask if I kill you both," Yongguk grumbled.

"You're too sensitive to be the killing type," Himchan sighed. "Like a man afraid of heartbreak would ever get his hands dirty with a double murder."

"You'd be surprised," Yongguk hissed. "And for the second time, I'm not afraid of heartbreak."

"Then why are you so afraid to ask Y/n to be a couple?" Himchan asked. "You two have been seeing each other for months."

"Because love, much like time, is a self imposed construct that isn't real," Yongguk sighed. "it's just a word humans crafted to explain the feeling of chemicals combining in your brain when you're infatuated with someone."

"So what you're saying is, you don’t plan to fall in love with Y/n?" Jongup asked, tilting his head.

"If it were real, maybe," Yongguk chuckled. "But we're speaking in hypotheticals here."

“Hypotheticals or not,” Himchan hummed. “I think it’s silly for you not to admit that you at least have some sort of feeling toward Y/n.”

“Oh, i certainly have some sort of feelings,” Yongguk nodded. “But to say it’s love may be overstepping. Love is a chemical imbalance in the brain. It’s the universe’s way of making sure you continue to breed. i have enough chemical imbalances where serotonin levels are concerned, so why would i want to throw another type of imbalance around?”

“Love isn’t practical enough for you, is it?” Jongup chuckled. “It’s not opportune for you, so you’d rather pretend that it doesn’t exist.”

“There’s no pretending here, friend,” Yongguk chuckled, shaking his head. “If Y/n expects for me to fall head over heels in love, it may take awhile.”

Your POV

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, gnawing on your lip in annoyance. He said he would be downstairs at least ten minutes ago, so what was taking him so long?

You and Yongguk had known each other for quite some time, but had just recently begun seeing each other more romantically within the past few months. While you weren’t rushing for him to express his feelings, you were interested in seeing a little more enthusiastic displays of his affection. You had hoped without hoping that tonight would be the night he asked you to become more serious, but if his tardiness was a precursor to the nights’ events, you were happy to never admit you had hoped at all.

“Screw it,” you grumbled, launching toward the steps of his apartment building. Might as well see what the hold up was.

Climbing stair after stair, you tried to calm your annoyance. It wasn’t the first time Yongguk had made you wait, and you were certain it wouldn’t be the last. Technically it could be seen as a larger metaphor for him making you wait to be an official couple, if that day were to ever come. Perhaps that’s why you were so irked. You weren’t just annoyed by his lack of punctuality today, but in general.

Reaching the landing of Yongguk’s floor, you stomped toward his apartment. Reeling back your annoyance, you knocked on the door, instantly becoming more annoyed as no one appeared to open it.

For a second, you were worried. What if he had slipped and hit his head on a counter top and was passed out on the floor? What if he had fell victim to a mounting anxiety attack and decided to lock himself in his room instead?

Feeding in to your imagination, you found your palm on the knob, and gave a gentle push. The door sprung open with little effort and you quickly slid into the entryway.

You suddenly felt incredibly foolish as you heard the laughter echoing from the living area and down the hallway. If Yongguk were hurt or upset, surely his friends wouldn’t be laughing. A heat of embarrassment began to travel up your neck as you heard Yongguk’s voice as well.

“Oh, i certainly have some sort of feelings,” You heard Yongguk insist. “But to say it’s love may be overstepping. Love is a chemical imbalance in the brain. It’s the universe’s way of making sure you continue to breed. i have enough chemical imbalances where serotonin levels are concerned, so why would i want to throw another type of imbalance around?”

Tilting your head, the heat of embarrassment quickly changed to a heated anger. What was he talking about?

“Love isn’t practical enough for you, is it?” Jongup chuckled. “It’s not opportune for you, so you’d rather pretend that it doesn’t exist.”

You felt hollow as the men’s laughter hit you like the truth you had been avoiding. In all of your hopes for Yongguk to confess, it had never occurred to you that perhaps he hadn’t loved you at all.

“There’s no pretending here, friend,” Yongguk laughed as well. “If Y/n expects for me to fall head over heels in love, it may take awhile.”

Swallowing, you felt yourself choke on your saliva. You hadn’t realized how dry your mouth had become. You also hadn’t noticed the lump of emotion struggling it’s way down your throat. As soon as the whimper escaped your lips, you regretted stepping foot into the apartment. You remained cemented in your spot, wide eyed and teary as Yongguk and Jongup’s necks strained around the corner, looking at your placement not far from the door.

“I was waiting,” you choked out, unsure of what to say. “I thought something was wrong and...”

Yongguk’s face fell as you spoke, realizing you had heard a piece of his love-scorned diatribe. Jongup’s expression slid to one of shock as he cut his eyes at his friend.

“Y/n, I-” Yongguk began, taking a hesitant step toward you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, attempting to hold back the tears that had been brewing for what seemed like the entirety of your courtship (or lack thereof.) “I shouldn’t have.”

Turning on your heel, you fled from the boys, not bothering to stop even when you heard Jongup’s gloomy response.

“Well, Guk, you certainly proved a point...I’m just not sure if it was the one you wanted.”

Your feet kept moving until they hit the concrete of the sidewalk, finally stopping long enough for you to catch your breath. It wasn’t as if he had said that he didn’t love you, or that he never would, but the indifference hurt. Sure, you were mortified to admit you had essentially broke into his apartment. And yes, it looked as if you were spying on their conversation. But mostly, your heart ached with how apathetic the man you had grown to love had spoken about his own feelings towards you.

You had full knowledge that relationships weren’t always equal. Both people involved weren’t always on the same page or had the same caliber of emotion as the other, but this came as a shock. Yongguk had shown no sign of disinterest or lack of willingness to pursue things. Tonight, he had joked about love as if it were a mythical story parents told their children about before bedtime.

It hurts when you realize you aren’t as important to someone as you thought you were.

“Y/n,” Yongguk’s husky voice called from behind you. You didn’t want to turn around, but you knew that you would anyway.

You also knew you looked incredibly sulky as you turned to face him. Tears still slid down your cheeks and you felt your eyes growing puffy. You weren’t even terribly sad, but the excess emotion seemed to spill out through your tear ducts.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, stepping cautiously forward. “I didn’t think you would ever hear me say anything like that.”

“Either come closer or stay away because this in between is exhausting,” you choked, hardly able to look in his direction.

Heaving a sigh, he crossed the distance between the two of you.

“I don’t just mean here,” you croaked. “But with our relationship as well.”

Glancing at him, you shook your head. “Not relationship. I don’t even know what this is anymore.”

“It’s a relationship,” Yongguk whispered, his deep voice hardly registering words at such a low tone. He felt silly correcting you after he had just used the word “friendship” himself with Himchan.

“Didn’t sound like it up there,” you muttered. “And for the record, I would like to say that I thought you slipped and hit your head on something, so I was terribly worried that you were in your apartment dying, but instead, you were just making fun of how much you didn’t love me.”

“Well, that sounds like a dramatic take on the situation,” he sighed. “But If we’re putting things on record, I wasn’t making fun of how much I don’t love you. In all actuality, I love you very much.”

You blinked for a moment, uncertain if your brain had fabricated that last sentence. “And I quote, if Y/n expects for me to fall head over heels in love, it may take awhile.”

“That didn’t sound very convincing, did it?” Yongguk winced.

“You don’t believe in love,” you whimpered. “You said it yourself.”

"Of course I believe in love," Yongguk sighed. "Even if I'm too much of a coward to admit that to my closest friends."

“So you were saying it was all an act?” you said quietly.

“I can admit freely to you,” he began, breaking eye contact. “That i have fabricated so many walls around myself, that I don’t even know how to be honest with my friends about my emotions sometimes. I don’t want to seem weak. I don’t want them to think that I’m distracted or less of who I was just because I have found myself caught up in feelings.”

“Who said it makes you weak?” you murmured.

“My own anxieties,” Yongguk nodded. “People in love are wrapped up in those they care about. They’re opening themselves up for heartbreak and hurt. It seems like love is a fool’s game and I didn’t want the people around me, who I think so highly of, to see me as a fool.”

“Then what about me?” you prodded. “Had no problem making me look like a fool in the process?”

“You have never been a fool,” Yongguk chuckled sadly. “If anything, you’ve been the brave one. You’ve been so open with how you’ve felt about me...you’ve made me realize just how silly I look even caring about the jokes my friends may have thrown my way.”

“Which they wouldn’t have, by the way,” you pouted.

“They wouldn’t,“ he nodded. “Really, I’m the only one standing in my way of being open about how I care about you.”

“And how is that exactly?”

"You make me feel things that I can't explain away,” Yongguk whispered. “Real love isn’t this spontaneous, electrifying, cartoon feeling. Real love is deliberate, it’s a choice. It’s for better or worse. It’s making you more of who you are and helping you accept what you could be. I’ve never felt more of myself than i do when I am with you, and if that’s not some inkling of love, maybe i’m a fool that doesn’t know what love is.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but could only close it again.

“Let us grow together, let us have our roots intertwined,” he said lowly, leaning down to press his forehead against yours. “Let me make up for the past five minutes with our future moments. Let me show you that I can learn.”

You chewed on your lip, unsure if you were about to cry or swoon. “Okay.”

“Okay?” he chuckled. “That’s all?”

“Anything I could possibly say after that would pale in comparison,” you murmured.

You could feel his gummy smile grow even though you couldn’t see it. His eyes were shut as his face stayed close to yours, and his hands snaked around your waist. You remained quiet, enjoying the moments of shared breaths, and just being.

“How lovely the silence of growing things,” Yongguk whispered, pulling you even closer to him. You smiled as well, taking in his scent and the pure feeling of being with him, finally on the same page. “Thank you for not walking away from the silly boy who wanted to pretend that he didn’t know what love is.”

“You knew all along,” you hummed, nuzzling your nose into his neck. “You just needed a little prompting.”

#bang yongguk #yongguk fluff #yongguk fanfic #yongguk bap #yongguk scenario #yongguk fic #yongguk oneshot #yongguk drabble #boyfriend yongguk #dating yongguk

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thenormativesuperintendent · 7 years

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The Schwarzschild radius

One of the most common complaints among people who begin treatment with SSRI's is that they reduce their ability to feel, and that this is definitely a bad thing, and therefore all psychiatric drugs are bad, Prozac is bad, Zoloft is bad, Big Pharma is bad, and then the patient gets depressed again and now feels even worse because, like, I can't take sertraline, can I? I wouldn't feel anything! "I knew I had to get off Zoloft because I couldn't even cry at my brothers wedding!" - Random woman whose name I can't recall. I can sympathise, this would indeed be a little jarring and disconcerting, but you know what else is bad? Depression. I don't mean to make a mockery of her plight, I understand what it's like to suffer from depression, but my annoyance at the time came from her anger towards the drug. I understand you were upset you couldn't feel that happy for your brother, but this is how SSRI's work, ok? Numbing to initiate action, action to improve your circumstances.

I'm going to palm this off to my favourite blog, and probably one of the smartest/most insightful people alive, Hotel Concierge, in this essay here, because he's written a far more eloquent, well articulated set of reasons as to why emotional analgesia is a good thing, and how this effect is leveraged to facilitate therapy. Also, if you have ever undergone the burden of mental illness, this essay is literally, for me, life-saving. I sincerely hope that it helps you too.

Second point: I find alarming the claim that, fundamentally, most antidepressants work via the same mechanism. I debated whether to tap out this text file on the point of not wanting to offend anyone/appear to be a pedantic asshole, but recently, this, courtesy Slate Star Codex:

“Increasing BDNF is the best option we have” NO[1]

Can I write "disagree" and then underline it, and then highlight it several times? I think this view -that it’s really just a landscape of SSRI’s- is flat-out wrong - I don't think it's necessarily dangerous per se, but it vastly misrepresents the state of play in psychopharmacology, and I want to put forward my arguments to rectify that.

Firstly, from the wonder of modern pedagogy that is Stahl:

Complex.

The idea behind these diagrams (the textbook is brilliant) is to give you a visual representation of the various binding affinities these compounds have for different receptors; the larger the shape, the greater the binding affinity.

Now let’s take a look at two similar antidepressants from the SSRI class: Lexapro and Zoloft (escitalopram and sertraline) The primary mechanism of action in both is occupancy of SERT (the serotonin transporter); normally serotonin gets slurped back up into pre-synaptic neuron, now it can’t because said slurpy protein is full, this leads to serotonin lingering in the synaptic cleft for longer which leads to an increased chance for it to bind to serotonin receptors on the post synaptic neurone. Voila, more activity in serotonergic neurons. Could be inhibitory, excitatory, changing receptor expression in the surface of the neuron: a multitude of downstream effects. Give two weeks for gene translation to occur and there you have it.

Serotonin is involved, in a broad, upstream kind of way, in regulating mood. More specifically, if thoughts[2] are constituted of different circuits or clusters of neurons firing, then serotonin plays a role in regulating affect by changing the activity of these cells (by the probability that they release/don’t release an impulse) that are poorly understood.

Posteriori, it’s no surprise that “pure” SSRI’s compress your emotional bandwidth concomitant to dose; we developed the saying “carrot and stick” for a reason; if emotional circuitry is closely related to System 1 thinking (Kahneman & Taversky - please don’t make me cite) then we need happiness and reward as well as sadness and grief. The two in partnership give us a map to help steer our actions away from what might harm us and towards what might be beneficial. If depression isn’t sadness (it isn’t) then lower serotonin levels lead to loss of any feeling, and your subjective cognitive interpretation of this is depression. You feel, not nothing, but hopeless. You lie there doing nothing; there’s no carrot, there��s no stick, everything just sucks. You’re not sad, you’re not crying, there’s just no point doing anything. Going upstream to jack up extracellular serotonin levels makes sense; sure, you might cap out your happiness by increasing the overall activity of all those serotonin pathways, but now the affective system has some life in it, you can get up and move about, think and cognise. Hooray, now therapy can work.

Except what if we could do better? We recognise that blocking the transporter means more serotonin everywhere, serotonin everywhere = emotional numbing. What if we could go further downstream and just target the receptors we want directly? Don’t jump to the conclusion that morphine is a good thing right now, if you’re suffering from depression and thumbing through your contact book to find a dope dealer, you have my sympathies, and far bigger issues than I can help you with. I wish you luck.

But there is no such thing as a pure SSRI; Zoloft has a weak, but clinically significant effect on other proteins (transporters and receptors); Lexapro is about as close to a pure SSRI as we currently have, but Zoloft seems to have some decent dopamanergic action going on in the frontal cortex.

And this is exactly the issue. I’m not debating that the primary mechanism of effect in both these drugs is interfering with serotonin metabolism, I’m saying that the subjective experience of being on sertraline is going to be different to the subjective experience of being on escitalopram. How do you quantify a slight uptick in dopamine? Chemists and pharmacists might say “well, it’s nothing, it’s really just an SRI” except: how in gods name do you qualify the subjective difference of “minor increase in dopamine”?

This isn’t a theoretical consideration; what appears on paper to be a bunch of drugs with minor differences, will, I am confident, have wildly different effects on different patients. Forget neurotransmitters, forget HAM-D scales. What if you just gave each patient four weeks on each of these different drugs and asked them to keep a daily journal of their subjective experiences? Which pill would they prefer? My best guess is no clear answer would emerge: minor differences on paper lead to concrete differences to different patients, and this is a very real, tangible, beneficial phenomena. Vortioxetine is indeed exciting: heavily antagonising HT2C sub-receptors tends to have good clinical effects, as evidenced by the fact Agomelatine seems to work well for some people. “But couldn’t that just be its beneficial effects on sleep and MT1/MT2 agonising?” Sure, except melatonin decreases dopamine release, which is the current leading hypothesis of seasonal affective disorder. Try popping 20mg of melatonin and tell me how you feel the next morning. Not enough dopamine means a malfunctioning reward/motivation pathway and shoddy cognition[3]. Combining SERT occupancy with serotonin antagonism on certain sub-receptors is a legitimately neat development. Mirtazapine is a potent drug, perhaps makes some a little too edgy or sedated (sedation can be a useful tool, see: insomnia) and it just antagonises the bejesus out of histamine, adrenergic, and serotonergic receptors.

The problem is that once people see “SERT” on a drug, everything else gets sucked into that vacuum, compressed into a black hole and all nuance is lost, and in the delicate balance of various ratios of neurotransmitter levels, nuance is everything. There’s no way to qualify the subjective experience of “minor increase/decrease in transmitter X/Y/Z” so stop pretending that these drugs are all basically the same; similarity on paper != similarity of experience.

(Endnote: SNRI’s tend to work well, slightly paradoxically, on anxiety. Why? Because increasing norepinephrine levels leads to agonising the alpha-2 autoreceptor, this shuts down the firing of the pre-synaptic neuron. Of course, individual mileage may vary and standard disclaimers apply. Just don’t be surprised if you fall asleep in class six hours after you’ve taken your Cymbalta)

I hope I haven’t offended anyone - my aim is simply to push back against a perceived hopelessness at making new antidepressants, and to argue that there are demonstrable, subjective (which in psychiatry is almost everything?) differences in each and every anti-depressant out there.

[1] It was (still is?) trendy to say that increasing BDNF ameliorates depression, but I’m pretty confident BDNF has very little to do directly with depression. Yes, depressed people show low levels of BDNF, and drugs like Zoloft can increase BDNF and synaptogenesis (they can also not do that) So does exercise. And yet exercise is much more efficacious at doing so than Zoloft, but no-one successfully gets through clinical depression by doing laps across Greece like 300 lives depend on it. Don’t get me wrong, exercise is fantastic, for mental and physical health. I’m just saying that nothing increases BDNF like exercise, and yet it doesn’t work as well as antidepressants in most cases. That NSI-189 failed to differentiate from placebo is perhaps the most unsurprising result since Karl Popper put pen to paper.

[2] Ontology question: what’s a thought?

[3] My leading cause of frustration with the nootropic/biohacking/transhumanist community: “give me all the dopamine you can!” Oh, so you want schizophrenia? Dude, you don’t need pills, you need to stop avoiding study. To quote Hotel Concierge, “your rationalism is inseparable from your anxiety”

#mental health #depression #psychiatry #drugs

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ntrending · 7 years

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No, turkey doesn’t make you sleepy

New Post has been published on https://nexcraft.co/no-turkey-doesnt-make-you-sleepy/

No, turkey doesn’t make you sleepy

‘Tis the season for giblets, wattles and snoods—oh my. On Thanksgiving and Christmas, Americans consume about 68 million turkeys—one for about every five of us. In fact, 29 percent of all turkeys gobbled down in the U.S. are consumed during the holidays.

And where turkey is being eaten, there is inevitably talk of tryptophan—a naturally occurring chemical found in turkey and other foods. This building block of protein often takes the blame for eaters feeling sleepy soon after the Thanksgiving meal.

Science has cleared tryptophan, though – it’s not the culprit when it comes to drowsiness after the feast. There are far more important factors leading to those post-turkey comas, not least of which is my Uncle Clarence’s story about parking at the airport. Add that to free-flowing booze combined with a load of carbohydrates followed by plenty more booze and you have a foolproof recipe for dozing off on the couch. Turkey, chicken, lamb and beef all contain roughly the same amount of tryptophan – ranging from 0.13-0.39 grams per 100 grams of food – yet the sleepiness myth has never surrounded those other foods.

So tryptophan is off the snooze-inducing hook. But researchers in the Netherlands suggest it does have a different psychological effect: They’ve discovered that doses of tryptophan (chemically known as L-tryptophan and abbreviated TRP) can promote interpersonal trust—that feeling you get when you look somebody in the eye, shake her hand and think, “I can cooperate with this person and she would reciprocate.”

In a study published in the journal Psychological Science, pairs of volunteers were each given an oral dose of 0.8g of TRP or a placebo. For comparison, a 100g standard serving of turkey about the thickness of a deck of playing cards contains about 0.31g of tryptophan.

Each duo then sat in separate cubicles and played a game where one person (the truster) was given US $7 and had to decide how much to transfer to the other person. The transferred money was then multiplied by three and the trustee could give back part of the tripled money.

The more money you’re willing to give away in the first place, the greater your return in the end—but you have to trust the other person to cooperate. A very simple and profitable game if played right.

The researchers found that the TRP group gave $4.81 on average and the placebo group offered only $3.38. This is a sizable 42 percent increase in transferred money between the two groups.

So what’s going on? Here’s the brain science behind how the tryptophan-trust connection works.

TRP is an essential amino acid found in many foods including eggs, soybeans, chocolate, cheeses, fish, nuts and, of course, turkey. The brain region associated with interpersonal trust—known as the medial prefrontal cortex—is powered by the neurotransmitter serotonin. Neurotransmitters are chemical messengers found throughout the body that transmit signals from one nerve cell to another.

Our bodies synthesize many neurotransmitters from simple amino acids which are readily available in our food and can be quickly converted in a small number of biosynthetic steps. The neurotransmitter serotonin is controlled in part by the release of TRP. This means that as you increase levels of TRP you’re able to release serotonin in the brain region specially designed to process trust. Think of a flashing neon sign that reads “trust this person, trust this person.”

Keep in mind, however, that our decisions to trust or not to trust do not rely solely on ingesting TRP. In the real world we take into account personality factors, how well we know someone, previous cooperation with that person, tone of voice, eye contact, body language and so on. These all have a hand in shaping the conscious and unconscious rules that govern our pro-social behavior and trust preferences.

So this holiday season, eat your turkey (or salmon or cashews or cottage cheese or chocolate) and remember that few things are more pleasurable than the joy that comes from sharing a holiday meal with loved ones. Science shows us that tryptophan can promote social bonding, but there still is no substitute for giving thanks. Trust me.

Kevin Bennett is a Assistant Teaching Professor of Psychology at Pennsylvania State University. This article was originally featured on The Conversation.

Written By Kevin Bennett/The Conversation

#Science

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djgblogger-blog · 7 years

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No, turkey doesn't make you sleepy – but it may bring more trust to your Thanksgiving table

http://bit.ly/2jby0Jx

Don't blame the turkey for those snores coming from the living room! Shannon Jordan/Shutterstock.com

‘Tis the season for giblets, wattles and snoods – oh my. On Thanksgiving and Christmas, Americans consume about 68 million turkeys – one for about every five of us. In fact, 29 percent of all turkeys gobbled down in the U.S. are consumed during the holidays.

And where turkey is being eaten, there is inevitably talk of tryptophan – a naturally occurring chemical found in turkey and other foods. This building block of protein often takes the blame for eaters feeling sleepy soon after the Thanksgiving meal.

Overeating and drinking are more likely at the root of your post-feast nap. Brent Hofacker/Shutterstock.com

So tryptophan is off the snooze-inducing hook. But researchers in the Netherlands suggest it does have a different psychological effect: They’ve discovered that doses of tryptophan (chemically known as L-tryptophan and abbreviated TRP) can promote interpersonal trust – that feeling you get when you look somebody in the eye, shake her hand and think, “I can cooperate with this person and she would reciprocate.”

Each duo then sat in separate cubicles and played a game where one person (the truster) was given US$7 and had to decide how much to transfer to the other person. The transferred money was then multiplied by three and the trustee could give back part of the tripled money.

The more money you’re willing to give away in the first place, the greater your return in the end – but you have to trust the other person to cooperate. A very simple and profitable game if played right.

The researchers found that the TRP group gave $4.81 on average and the placebo group offered only $3.38. This is a sizable 42 percent increase in transferred money between the two groups.

So what’s going on? Here’s the brain science behind how the tryptophan-trust connection works.

TRP is an essential amino acid found in many foods including eggs, soybeans, chocolate, cheeses, fish, nuts and, of course, turkey. The brain region associated with interpersonal trust – known as the medial prefrontal cortex – is powered by the neurotransmitter serotonin. Neurotransmitters are chemical messengers found throughout the body that transmit signals from one nerve cell to another.

A plate of turkey won’t convince you to buy into Cousin Gerald’s pyramid scheme. Rawpixel.com/Shutterstock.com

Kevin Bennett does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

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