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ikesenhell · 4 years

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An Ode to Someone I Once Knew

You can find all other IkeSen/IkeVamp works of mine on my page under the Masterlists! NOTES: Wow, let me just whip up some angst real quick for yall. Sorry that I’m constantly doing our boy Shingen dirty. Somehow, everything I write for him I honestly love.

This is one part fix-it for his route (because I feel like he was shortchanged SO HARD by his route, let’s be honest, I think he deserved better) and another part just blatantly attempting to hurt you all. Sorry? TW Angst, TW major character death.

---

Once, when her staying was less voluntary and more ‘voluntold’, she’d started on a poem. The pen in her purse was still good. From time to time, she dripped water into the ink just to make sure it stayed liquid; writing with a brush was still too difficult. The tiny notebook that used to hold grocery lists was now a therapist.

A seasoned poet, she was not. That was fine. No one would read it. It was just whatever felt right, mostly stream of consciousness: the bone deep fear Kenshin inspired, the agonizing loneliness, the uncertainty and helplessness of living in a world so removed from your own. It distracted from the ever-evolving timeframe of ‘homeward bound’.

More or less everyone had their own segment. Yukimura’s was short (the good thing about him was he was so clear cut that anything she wrote was the same); Sasuke’s, warm and friendly; Yoshimoto’s, elegant and difficult to pin down.

Speaking of difficult to pin down…

Even after the first month (and being kidnapped by his own people, and constantly visited, and negotiating boundary after boundary after fractional boundary with him), she couldn’t figure Shingen out. She assumed at first that the one among them most like the moon would be Yoshimoto. Oh, no. That was Shingen. He wore a thousand masks, each like a crescent or a waxing or a waning or a half moon, and even when he seemed most unobscured she wasn’t certain she had the whole picture. It was like viewing a man from a thousand miles away; she, earthbound, and he, out there in the heavens, visible but blurry all the same. She half-started on a poem, stopped, stared out into the dark, and absently titled it An Ode to Someone I Once Knew before a single sentence was fully formed.

No doubt she would only get perspective on him once she was safely home.

---

Another Full Moon for him: more clarity she couldn’t quite take at its face. She wandered across the stables and discovered him inside, holding the reins of a wild-eyed stallion and delivering calm instructions to a stressed-out Yukimura.

“You shouldn’t be handling him,” Yuki scolded, but his heart wasn’t in it. “I can do it.”

“I have it.” Shingen’s voice betrayed nothing; the horse reared powerfully and he snapped around, wrapped the rope around his hand, forced it back into place. “Do you think I haven’t done this a thousand times?”

Yuki opened his mouth to say something, spotted her, and closed it again. “Oi, Boar Woman. You should stay back.”

“I planned on it.”

“Goddess,” Shingen called smoothly, a grin sliding onto his lips. There it was; that lunar mask, constantly shifting. “Good morning.”

“Focus on the horse! Hells!” The younger man gripped at his own hair like it might help.

“It’s fine.” And Shingen finally turned back to focus on the animal. Sure hands slid up the rope, coming ever closer to its muzzle. It bucked and jerked and she could see the veins in his shoulder stand out, but he didn't budge. “Yuki, I need you to step back.”

“But--”

“Yukimura.”

That was a command if ever she’d heard one; and she never had, not from him. Yukimura stepped obediently backward, shoulder to shoulder with her, furling and unfurling his hands for a measure of control. Shingen straightened up (was he slouching all this time? He looked seven feet tall now), wound another handful of rope into his grasp, and came hand to nose with the stallion.

“Hush, now.” He breathed, and lay his fingers on its nose. His other hand waved a slow path near its eyes. “I’m right here. You can see me. You can smell me. I won’t hurt you.”

“Does he know what he’s doing?” She whispered to Yuki. Yuki, even rocking back and forth between his feet from stress, huffed a laugh.

“Yeah. He’s an expert. Watch.”

The horse didn't rear. It huffed, tried to back into the wall. Shingen coaxed it forward from the stall and into the sunlight, turning it around and around in the paddock. Those frightened eyes softened, blinked, its head lowered, and finally the strained walk turned into a peaceful, slow gait. Shingen smiled and pet its nose thoughtfully.

There it was. The briefest moment of a full moon, the clarity of a telescope, the breathlessness of walking on its surface and glimpsing it in true color. He looked more honest stroking the stallion’s mane than she’d ever seen before; a man at home in his own galaxy and unobscured by clouds.

“Told you,” he laughed, and flashed Yukimura a charming, boyish grin.

“I didn't doubt you could do it,” he snapped back. “Just…”

And it was gone. The men fell silent, the weight of something they didn't trust to her hanging between them.

---

Kenshin, in time, grew used enough to her presence to leverage her when he was bored. She learned the pattern of his unease: first he picked a fight with Shingen, then Yoshimoto, then Sasuke, and when inevitably both Sasuke and Yukimura excused themselves on some nonsense errand or another, he at last turned to her. The first five times, he made her drink with him, or waxed poetic about his sword.

This time he took her to the armory. Row upon row of naginata and polearms and spears and swords rest in their racks, polished to a fine edge. The instruments of war made her nauseous. Still, Kenshin looked so content and pleased that she didn't say that. She picked politely around the rows and asked questions, focused on learning as much as she could from the God of War himself. It was an opportunity few could boast.

“And what about that one?” She pointed to the largest of the bunch. Maybe in Europe it passed as a claymore. It was a monstrous blade in a beautiful crimson sheath, wrapped in golden ties and balanced in its own rack. Kenshin eyed it.

“That would be Shingen’s.”

“That thing is massive.”

“He’s very big.” Kenshin wrinkled his nose with distaste. All at once she remembered the legend that he’d had to have his own swords shortened--and noticed at the same time that he was barely taller than her. She hadn’t thought to mentally gauge the gap in their heights before now. “And dramatic.”

Dramatic? Coming from Kenshin? She laughed and managed to disguise it as a cough when he cast a curious glance her way. “I guess.”

Kenshin nodded slowly at the sword--as if it might tell him something, as if it had something to glean from that artistic sheath. He seemed tense, pensive, and she almost asked why--but the best students learned from what their teachers saw, right? So she followed his gaze once more, fully soaking in the sight until it unsettled her.

---

“You’re the kind of man that brings everything onto his shoulders, aren’t you?”

Shingen blinked. She almost patted herself on the back. For the last month, he’d visited her near-nightly in her chambers, constantly talking in circles around her questions and gathering whatever he thought he needed from her (god only knew what that was). She’d never seen him caught off guard before. It felt very much like Christine ripping the mask from the Phantom of the Opera, though she was less certain what she saw underneath. He schooled his expression.

“Why do you ask?”

Valuable opportunities like this didn't come along often with him. She mulled over her words, inspected the shaft of moonlight lancing along the floor. He wore new sandals with crimson trim, his legs folded perfectly under his kimono, the broad plane of his chest rakishly visible. His heart beat faster than most. She’d noticed that a while ago. His pulse was visible in his collarbone, but only when he turned ever so slightly and bared it further.

“Your sword,” she said at last. “It’s like you.”

He lifted a brow, mouth still a pensive line. She half-expected him to summon a deflecting smile and was surprised when he didn't. “How so?”

People don’t pick the biggest blade for no reason. You could manipulate a shorter katana faster. You already have reach. You’re trying to keep people away, but you’re strong, so why? She dug her fingers into the crook of her knees, frustrated, reaching for the sentences she felt and couldn’t match words to, struggling to bring that visible moon into focus and stay there.

“It just…” She sighed. “I don’t know how to phrase it. Would you just answer the question?”

No grin appeared. He just stared, his eyes searching hers, and for the first time he looked lost.

“I suppose any good daimyo does,” Shingen finally answered, diplomatic as ever. “If you really care about your people, you do everything you can for them--even if it takes blood, sweat, tears, and your whole heart.”

The picture remained blurry. She wanted to groan with frustration and shake him, demand answers to a question she didn't know. But that was all she could get. It had to be enough for now. Reluctantly, she stared out into the night sky, at all of the stars she never saw in the 21st century.

“Why do you ask?” Shingen pressed. The same tête-à-tête, back to haunt her. “It’s such a specific question. I’m curious, my goddess.”

He hadn’t stopped looking at her. Why? It was exhausting, the back-and-forth; it made her wonder why she’d named the poem about him (that she hadn’t even started to write) An Ode to Someone I Once Knew. Why did her heart insist that was the right title? She didn't even know him.

“Because,” she said softly, too tired of the fight to keep at it, “Sometimes I feel like I see you. Not the front you put up; something honest. Something real. Something that made Yuki want to follow you and your friends love you, not the…” And she waved a hand in front of her face, “the mask you do.”

Shingen inhaled quietly. She could feel his presence at her shoulder, like he shifted her tides with the gravity he commanded. “Why would you want to?”

“Why wouldn’t I want to know you? Don’t you come in here every night? Why shouldn’t I at least want to...” Goddamn words! She sighed. “Don’t you want people to know who you are?”

He could’ve referenced their bet, the one where he would make her smile. He could’ve made some oblique reference to trying to bed her, or slipped from the conversation with the same easy grace he wielded as effortlessly as that massive sword. And yet--yet he just reached out and took her hand. She flinched.

“Sorry.” Shingen squeezed her fingers, the gentle pressure easing her shock. “I didn't mean to frighten you.”

“You’re okay.” She allowed, noticing that the hammer of her heart matched the beat of his own pulse. “Why did you do that?”

Finally he granted her a smile. It was nothing like his usual. This one was sad, bittersweet, sincere. It was the look of a man who’d made up his mind, and for once, she remembered that he wasn’t a planet at all, not an asteroid, not anything in the solar system, just flesh and blood and bone and breath. The distance between them was not thousands of miles, but scant inches, inches that could be crossed. So she did. She scooted herself over to his hip. Shingen blinked with surprise.

“Careful,” she tittered despite herself. “If you keep looking shocked by the things I do, I’ll start getting a big head and think I’m clever.”

“Aren’t you?”

“I dunno, am I, mister ‘I have a super cool spy network and am notoriously smart’ man?”

Laughter rumbled in his throat. She dragged the hand that held hers into her lap, leaned her head against his shoulder, listened to his arrhythmic pulse. Solid warmth caressed her hair.

“Your heartbeat is off.”

Shingen paused entirely too long. “Is it?”

“Mhm.” She tapped out the pattern on the floor with her free hand. “It sounds like that.”

“Odd,” he remarked, and she knew he already knew.

---

He asked her to come to the stables the next day, and when she arrived, he was already saddling up a sweet black mare.

“Morning, Goddess.” Shingen grinned at her, all of his vulnerability erased in the light of day. “Do you know how to ride?”

“Not at all.”

“Not at all?”

The urge to say ‘horses are for rich people’ bubbled into her throat, but she bit it back. “Where I’m from, most people don’t have horses.”

“What a pity.” He guided the horse from the stall. Wait--weren’t the Takeda known for their cavalry? It made sense now. “Come on. Let me show you how.”

She accepted his boost into the saddle, his hands steady around her waist and the motion effortless. As soon as she went to swing her other leg over, Shingen cast her a bemused stare. “You’re wearing a kimono, Princess.”

“So…” Wrinkling her nose, she wriggled into a more comfortable position. “So I have to ride side-saddle, huh?”

“As princesses do.” Shingen shot her a smile, and for once the title didn't sound condescending. It felt like he meant it. “But you’ll be alright. There’s nothing you’ll have to do that you can’t do that way, and I assume if it became a matter of life or death, the state of your clothes will matter less--and that you’d quickly discover how to handle it. Come on.”

He guided her out into the courtyard, the sunlight beating down on the back of his neck and his shoulders, his hands firm around the reigns. Unbidden, she considered that he wasn’t teaching her how to ride for practicality.

“Shingen?”

“Yes?”

“Are you sharing something with me?”

He looked back, sincere and open, his expression unguarded and handsome and regal, and answered, “You wanted to know who I am.”

In great moments of your life, it is impossible to pinpoint them at the time, bookmark them and commit them to perfect memory. It was only in retrospect she realized this was when she truly, completely, and utterly fell.

---

They were headed to war, and she knew it. Kasugayama was a hive of activity. Shingen was largely absent from their nightly visits in the days leading up, the space in front of her screen empty and lonesome. She missed the tempo of his heartbeat. She missed the familiar rhythms of his voice.

God, she missed him.

She sat in front of the half-moon with her pen poised, the page of her notebook open to the poem she knew would write itself about him, wordless and quiet. Her soul sat still under the night canopy. She only half-knew him, really, and what she’d seen so far--

When he arrived at her room the next morning, a smile on his lips, her heart beat harder than ever before.

“Care to come out with me?”

“Where to?”

“Just a ride out. Nothing special. I simply thought you might want a brief outing before I leave for battle.”

They saddled up and headed down the city streets, out into the cool day. Echigo was mountainous, snow capped peaks in the distance wreathed in fog and vanishing into clouds. Wind stole away her breath. Sunlight warmed her fingers and face, a gentle reprieve. Around the twisting pathways they went, wild formation of rock and sky their only company until they reached a small lake.

“Here.” Shingen dismounted easily, offering a hand to her. “Let’s rest a while.”

She stripped off her geta and tabi socks, ignoring the laughter in his eyes, hitched up the edge of her kimono, and stepped into the still waters. It was freezing. Even so she wriggled her toes, relishing the feeling. Shingen sat heavily on the bank.

“Having fun, Princess?”

“I like water,” she announced simply. “I don’t know why. Always have. I used to live near the coast and I would go to the ocean all times of the year, even in the dead of winter, and walk through the surf. It calms me.”

“I wish I’d known that. I would’ve brought you out here sooner.”

She straightened up and offered a hand to him. “You could join me.”

A thousand thoughts marched across his features before they calmed again. “Ah, I’ll have to pass, unfortunately. Thank you.”

“Why’s that?”

For all the progress they’d made with each other, there was still something between them. Shingen fell silent, his gaze sliding upward to the sky, his picture-perfect posture a shield between himself and her questions. With a sigh, she waved it off. “Nevermind.”

“I…” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “It’s bothering you.”

“You have secrets, you don’t have to tell me.” Almost as soon as she said that, she walked it back with, “Health problems, right?”

Shingen stared. “Yes.”

“Is it some kind of heart thing?”

He hesitated. “No.”

“Okay.” Sloshing free from the water, she shook out her toes and flopped onto the grass beside him. “Something that messes with your pulse, at least.”

A pause. “Yes.”

Whatever it was felt obvious, but she still couldn’t pinpoint it. Frowning, she instructed, “Take a deep breath for me.”

“I can’t.”

“Just one, plea--”

Oh.

She halted mid-sentence, his impassive expression confirmation. Uncertainly, she scooted closer, her hand pressing to his chest. There it was. She could feel the staccato rise and fall under her fingers.

“It’s that bad?” She asked, her voice softer than she meant.

Shingen wrapped his hand around hers. “Bad enough. But I manage.”

An Ode to Someone I Once Knew. The title of the poem meant for him came back to her. It was like the muse knew well before she did, like it was the eulogy to a funeral not far off. If war or disease or famine didn't take him, his own body would, and faster than all the others. All the air in her lungs yearned to fill his.

No amount of breath filled the void of space, did it?

Shingen checked her chin lightly with his hand. “Don’t look so sad. I get that expression from Yuki enough for this lifetime.”

“There’s nothing to be done?” She asked.

After an eternity of silence, he responded, “No.”

There it was.The horse master himself wasn’t holding the reigns, and he knew it. Everything swam into perfect clarity. No wonder she’d barely known him. What was the point in it when you’d just leave them behind? He was already halfway around the bend, a smile on his face and the wind in his hair, and there was never any promise he’d still be there when she caught up…

Her knuckles were white. She realized that now; she’d clenched hard into the silk of his shirt, his hand still wrapped over top, eyes trained on hers. Bitterly, she spat, “This really isn’t fair.”

Shingen chuckled dryly. “What isn’t fair about it to you?”

“That I just now get to--” Goddamnit, now was not the time to cry. She squeezed her eyes shut. “That I just now--I’m just getting to really know you, and I like what I’ve seen, and--”

He wasn’t rock and sky and space; he was flesh and bone and blood and so very little breath after all, only inches separating them, and then there was no separation at all. His hand was the gentlest pillow on the back of her head, her hand on his chest still cushioned in his, the mouth that teased and danced and infuriated her in equal measure over the weeks now on hers. The universe was an unfair place; his lips were so, so gentle and warm. Shingen drew away and she followed, chasing his breath with hers.

“Come back here and kiss me more,” she hissed, and he laughed.

“I am here,” he answered tenderly, and for once she believed him.

---

She never said she loved him. He never said it either; it hung between them like a wedding veil, never to be lifted, the final vows never spoken. But oh, he made sure she knew it. Her body memorized the sharp edge of his hips against the underside of her thigh, how one of his hands so easily gripped both of hers, how he worshipped her so slowly and silently and steadily. The closest they ever came to saying it aloud was the night before battle, wrapped together in his tent under a mountain of warm blankets to stay the cold. He took her hand and pressed it to his heart.

“All for you and Kai,” he said, and it took all of her composure not to burst into tears.

By the end of the week, victory and Kai was theirs.

By the end of the month, he was dead.

---

Tsutsujigasaki fell silent. Who else could fill it but Shingen? She sat in the courtyard hugging her knees at night, watching the moon play over her toes and wondering why it waxed and waned without him beside her. Yukimura and Yoshimoto filled the role of daimyo in the aching gulf. It was so often just the three of them in the mornings, both of them silent and heavy with unshed tears.

“You know,” Yuki started on one of those days, clearing his throat to get the grit from it, “You probably could help me with some of this stuff.”

Coming from Yuki, it sounded like an insult. She knew better by now. He was asking for help. She shrugged. “I don’t know most of the ins and outs like you do, much less Kai.”

“You’ll learn it.” He answered.

“Besides, the trick to Kai is simple,” Yoshimoto joined in quietly, his voice swallowed in the high ceilings. “It’s just Shingen.”

He was right. Even as she busied herself learning its streets, the hardworking people and their humble buildings, she saw Shingen reflected. The wind was his lungs, the town his heart, Tsutsujigasaki his sheltering arms. More and more of the governing work came her way; she buried herself in documents and correspondence and treaties and reconstruction and economic efforts. Kai even shared his generous spirit. The more she gave of herself to them, the more the people gave back to her. Word apparently spread quickly; they began to refer to her as the Lady Takeda.

“You should take the role,” Yoshimoto said one day.

“What?”

Sometimes it hurt to meet his gaze. Yoshimoto looked almost nothing like his cousin--except for those eyes. They had the same earthy eyes, bright and warm and all-seeing, charming and cunning and disarming. Now she buried herself there. It felt like the only part of Shingen she had left.

“The role of the Lady Takeda,” he answered smoothly. “You’d do beautifully.”

“But…” She hesitated, words stuck in her throat, and looked helplessly at Yuki. The other man shrugged.

“I have Shinano,” Yuki pointed out. “I mean, my older brother kinda has it, but…” The unspoken lingered. No doubt he wanted to go home. It was all Shingen wanted, too.

“I’d be here to support you with administrative work,” Yoshimoto offered. “If you would have the Imagawa, that is. I would be happy to support the Lady Takeda.”

“Wouldn’t,” she stuttered over her words, grasping for thoughts that knew the right words and didn't want to speak them aloud, “I would--Shingen would’ve had to marry me. I’m not the Lady Takeda.”

Yuki and Yoshimoto exchanged glances.

“Pretty sure he would’ve,” Yuki looked embarrassed. “Pretty sure he would’ve. In my book, you pretty much are.”

---

The ink in her pen was dry.

That was alright. She’d grown used to writing with a brush by now; enough documents passed over her desk that she’d worked it out. That, and Yoshimoto was more than happy to educate her (and wax poetic) on the finer points of calligraphy. She spent countless nights bent over a desk made for Shingen’s height that she couldn’t bring herself to replace, going to sleep under the pile of blankets from their last night together under the watchful light of the moon. Even years on, she could still smell him on the fabric.

Kai flourished again. She grew to love it the way she imagined Shingen had; the rumble of hoofbeats echoing in her heart, the fall turning her whole world into shades of orange and maroon and gold and crimson. He existed everywhere then. When the wind tornadoed the leaves around her, she swore that was his spirit reminding her he was still there.

She found her old notebook many years later, the dried out pen still stuck in that page she’d never finished. An Ode to Someone I Once Knew. Tracing the words with her thumb, she settled in front of her open screen, the full moon overhead spilling like a lantern onto a fresh page.

Mixing the ink the way Yoshimoto taught her, she pulled out a fresh leaf of paper and started on a new poem. At the top, she wrote: An Ode to Someone I Will Always Love.

#ikesen shingen #ikemen sengoku #my writing #an ode to someone i once knew #angst #tw death #death tw #tw: major character death #MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH #tw major character death

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elitparadox · 3 years

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Life Goes On~ (Pt. 3)

Description: you suddenly appear in haikyuu after watching the show for weeks now, and you’re trying to find a way out after learning from these talented characters. you weren’t meant to fall in love with any of them, but with osamu’s alluring formosity and talent, you can’t help but rethink your life that has led up to this exact moment.

Genre: fluff, slight crack, slow burn

feat: miya osamu x f!reader

word count: 1.3k

status: ongoing

parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

Then it hits you. Time. You never thought about it, yet now another wave of panic is crashing down on you, more insistent this time. What about my family? They'll go crazy! And when I finally get back, they'll- *you start mentally sniffling* -they might forget me! And I won't have any food! I'll be homeless! what am I going to do what am I going to do what am I going to-

"Um, hello?" Osamu interrupts your thoughts, snapping his fingers in front of your face.

“Ah, sorry. But we should be sleeping... anyways… good night!”

You curl into a ball, the cold air still reaching your body despite the blankets.

“Ok. Night!” Osamu sighs, trudging to another bedroom.

You try to sleep, but a hurricane of convoluted thoughts swirl throughout your mind, devastating every morally supportive reminder as you contemplate if you should retrace your steps. You count sheep, like a totally normal person would when sleep doesn’t come to them, but it doesn’t work. Then you remember how you would usually go outside, nature doing its job for you.

You slip out of the apartment, trying to stay as quiet as you can.

That doesn’t happen, obviously.

“Ow!” You swear as you bump into a sharp edge on the counter near the exit door.

The door slams closed, almost on your bare foot.

“How graceful.” You walk up the apartment stairs, reaching a latch leading to the top. As you open it, the sudden wind nearly topples you off your feet like a harsh admonishment to stay away.

“Wow. It’s cold up here. I mean, of course it would be.”

The cold washes over your body as a layer- frigid instead of warm. You shiver, your body temperature seeming to slowly decrease by the second. But the stars shine light upon you like a spotlight, but even better. It was a burst of temporary happiness and ideas.

You walk toward the edge of the balcony deck, leaning onto the parapet.

“Life goes on, and every second matters. But, I need to find a way out of here. How am I going to stay? I don’t even know how I got here. This is just great. I don’t want to depend on anyone ‘cuz i feel like i need to owe-”

You don’t realize you’re muttering sleepily to yourself until a voice behind you makes you jump literally five feet in the air.

“Why are you up here?”

You whip around to find Osamu standing there, and you let out a sigh of relief because you were actually expecting a janitor to say this.

“Um, well, long story short- I couldn’t sleep.”

He looks back and forth at your dreamy visage and your shivering self.

“You’re going to catch a cold. Jus’ come inside.”

Without responding, you turn back toward the night sky with its brilliant stars illuminating the bright bustling city below. The whispering wind blows loose strands of your somehow silky hair across your face, and with the surprisingly calming feeling radiating from osamu, you fall asleep, your head nestled in your folded arms. (and osamu has to give you a piggyback down the stairs into his bedroom btw absolutely nothing nasty happens)

The morning settles over you slowly like the unfolding blatant truth. Rubbing your eyes and sitting up, you look around, unable to believe that you’re not in your room, because you half-expected that what happened before was all a dream, except you can’t dream a dream in a dream.

So, you know the usual morning routine, you get out of bed, brush your teeth, get dressed, and figure a way out of here (which isn’t what you would normally do, but change of plans..)

It was then you noticed Osamu cooking some other delicacy in the kitchen.

Your heart softens like syrup on waffles, because never before had anyone done this for a stranger like you, and you say “Samu, you don’t have to do all this for ME. don’t you have bigger fish to fry? Besides i have to find a way out- i mean, leave soon-”

“OK, but do you know where you’re going? You seem new to this town…”

You gulped. Your ideas for returning home seemed futile now. You couldn’t wait forever, you didn’t have any way to travel back, and, for the sake of osamu, you couldn’t stay in his apartment for as long as you had to (which could be years)!

Please let this be a dream. Please let this be a dream. Please-

Osamu chuckles slightly while frying eggs on a pan, pulling you out of your thoughts. “You don’t know, don’t you?”

“Like I said…” And, too mentally exhausted for lies, you reiterate how you were brought here.

As you catch your breath, you look at Osamu. Is that amusement in his eyes?

“No, seriously! That’s legit what happened, okay? Why would I lie about this?” You insist, frustration clawing its way up your stomach.

He seems thoughtful for a silent minute. “No idea. You don’t seem to be lying… but should I take you to the therapist? I think they could help. By the way, what’s your name? I can’t believe I forgot to ask you this.”

“Y/N. And I don’t need to go to the therapist! I’m telling you, this is what happened! And I don’t know where I’m going to stay for possibly the rest of my life!”

You sigh, the frustration already kindling a fire in your eyes, slumping down on the couch.

“Hey.” The previous glint in his eyes disappear like mist as he strides in long graceful steps toward you (after turning down the cooktop temperature) “Jus’ calm down already. I’ll help ya if ya need it. Besides, would staying in my apartment really hurt ya?”

“Okay..” you say slowly because you’re trying not to think about the way his hand is surprisingly on your shoulder. “But only if you can help me with volleyball.”

To spend the time, you think silently.

The look on Osamu’s face was priceless. Actually, it wasn’t. Because his expression was as blank as a fresh sheet of paper.

“What?” He asked like I’d just sprouted two heads.

“What do you mean what? Is it so wrong that I ask you for volleyball help when you’re an awesome spiker in Inarizaki?”

Oop. Major oop.

“How do you know that I’m in-”

“Ok okokokkkkkkk” You drag out the word, trying to think of an excuse during these seconds.

“Welp.. we’re near Inarizaki High, so isn’t it obvious that every high schooler from this neighborhood goes there?”

Now it was his turn to be embarrassed. “Oh yeah. Sorry.”

Realizing something else, he adds, “But didn’t you say that you don’t come from here?”

“Oh yeah. I forgot to mention, you’re part of a popular TV series”

“What?”

Now you’re starting to think he’s a total dumbass like his brother. “I said what I said.”

“Okay. I don’t believe ya, but sure.”

“Anyways… are you gonna help train me or do you not have the time?”

That new notion hits you hard. You came here for the practice, not for the pure joy of exploring a different world...

Noticing your flustered expression, Osamu says, “I don’t have much time with all my schoolwork… but I’ll help you during the weekends and you can come watch my team’s drills and sometimes practice matches..”

“Really??? You’d do that??”

“Yes” he says with a straight face, but deep inside, his heart is fluttering ever so slightly from your overjoyed expression.

Now this… was a start.

Glancing over Osamu’s shoulder, you ask, “Aren’t those eggs getting cold?”

(requests are OPEN) hope yall like it!! tag list: @omiomi-zoomizoomi @liechelia @sillyanimedream @niconiconiithot987

#haikyuu x reader #hq!!#haikyuu!!#miya osamu #haikyuu scenarios #miya osamu x y/n #haikyuu #miya osamu x reader #osamu x y/n

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moonprincess92 · 4 years

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so social distancing has naturally given me a lot more time to read and i’ve just recently finished ��In at the deep end” by Penelope Janu. i apparently needed a few days to stew in my eMOtions because bOY DO I HAVE SOME FUCKIN OPINIONS(TM)

- the tl:dr version is this book is absolute Trashfire and i hated it

- for more opinions, please do continue

- i originally picked up this book (long before being confined to my house, for the record, i was just far too optimistic about having the time to read it back then) bc the cover claimed it was a ‘quick-witted romantic comedy about losing your cool’ (spoiler alert: it is not)

- the back was also an interesting premise: she is a feisty explorer/geography teacher, he is a badass norwegian navel officer, her boat sinks and she nearly drowns bc she can’t swim. he rescues her and will help fund a new ship if he teaches her how to swim

- so u got the perfect ‘let me teach u this skill and while we’re at it lets fall in love’ trope and hOW DOES THIS BOOK MANAGE TO MESS THAT UP

- LETS START WITH WHERE IT GETS PROBLEMATIC

- girl wants to go to palau island on the new ship they fund. dudebro will ONLY let her go if she learns how to swim. he is the one who will determine her ‘readiness’ to swim. he is the one who will be teaching her.

- DUDEBRO ISN”T EVEN IN CHARGE OF THE SHIP???? WHY DOES HE GET TO DECIDE????

- book also tries to pull the ‘enemies to lovers’ trope by having the two main characters literally hate each other but forgets the all important FRIENDS step thats supposed to happen in btwn so basically u hate the very ship ur supposed to be shipping

- reason girl cannot swim is bc of a trauma in which the car she was in crashed into water. her mother drowned and her father was seriously injured and later died in this event

- girl suffers from SEVERE phobic symptoms of water. she cannot touch water, or even think of putting her head under without suffering panic attacks, migraines, and vomiting. it is clear that this girl needs psychological help to get over her phobia

- DOES THE BOOK EVER TOUCH ON THIS???? NO IT FUCKING DOES NOT WHAT IS THERAPY ONLY THE POWER OF BONERS CAN CURE HER APPARENTLY

- dudebro even says at one point “i don’t think you have post-traumatic stress, yadda yadda why can’t u do this??????” LIKE ARE U A FUCKIN PSYCHOLOGIST??? NO UR FUCKING NAVY GO BACK TO THE NORWEGIAN SEA U IMBECILE

- while we’re at it are u even qualified to teach someone how to swim?????? I know ur navy and shit which i guess includes knowledge of swimming but just bc i cook a mean pasta for dinner doesn’t mean i’m fuckin gordon ramsey????

- as he teaches her how to ‘swim’ book tries to make it that they have this undeniable cHeMIStrY but bc these characters also Hate(TM) each other you end up hating both of them

- like she even has to tell him ‘i do not want to be touched inappropriately by u’ which is supposed to come off as Sexy and ‘ooooh the tension is so WILD they can’t keep their hands off each other!!!’ but instead comes off as creepy and like he’s a predator

- dudebro also has the personality of a potato

- the first time they have a sexual encounter, there is NO consent???? literally they are arguing and he reminds her of the rule she made about not touching her. he doesn’t want to have sex and suggests they meet the next day. she says no, purposefully angering him into breaking the rule and saying (AND I QUOTE) “You wanted this, so you can’t accuse me of acting inappropriately. Is that understood?”

- I”M SORRY THATS NOT HOW CONSENT WORKS?????????????????

- they also don’t label their sexual encounter as “””sex””” bc it wasn’t P-in-V like mmmmmkay

- by this point i hate the book and am slowly descending into Madness but am determined to see it to the end, so carry on reading i go

- eventually, we get to the point where it’s nearly the deadline where she has to know how to swim and so far, she can only sit in water that is waist deep. girl is SUFFERING and yet somehow she still never goes to a therapist?????

- even tho she’s been struggling to even SIT in water, she suddenly decides one day fuck it, i’m gonna just dive in the deep end and put my head under??? (it reads like its supposed to be a clever tie in to the title, but reality is its really inconsistent with her progress!)

- SOMEHOW THE MAGIC OF FUCKING BONERS HELPS HER PUT HER HEAD UNDER?????

- DUDEBRO LITERALLY SAYS “Breathe. Through. Me,” (direct quote) AND THEY ROMANTICALLY KISS UNDER THE WATER????? LIKE THIS GIRL WAS VOMITTING AT THE THOUGHT MERE DAYS AGO

- like i am in no way an expert in phobias and PTSD but like i’m like FAIRLY certain this this isnt supposed to be how they work??????????

- idk what this says about our author Ms Penelope here, but i literally lost count the amount of times she writes about the girl’s “erect nipples”

- she is also obsessed with calling dudebro an ‘action hero’ like wE GET IT HE’S SUPPOSED TO BE A DREAMY BUFF DUDEBRO WHO CAN BENCH-LIFT CARS AND SHIT

- the first time they have sex(TM) they get real weird with the idea of contraception. they’ve only known each other a few months at this point, they are not even officially together yet and THIS is the interaction they have:

“I don’t have a condom.” “You’re a commander. You should be better prepared.” “I bet you’re not on the pill.” “No.” “So you want to have a baby straight away?”

- WHAT THE FLYING FUCK????? WHO SAYS THAT TO SOMEONE THEY’RE HAVING SEX WITH FOR THE FIRST TIME???? the conversation is awkward and about as sexy as donald trump in a bikini

- at this point i want to hurl myself into the Abyss

- anyway, book plays up the trip to palau as her big goal she’s working towards. somehow, she magically manages to learn to swim with like a week to go or something (AGAIN HOW???) dudebro says she’s not “””””ready””””” tho and bans her from going anyway ? ? ?

- this shows how throughout the whole book, these characters have NOT had a healthy relationship. their every interaction clearly shows that dudebro has a LOT more power over the girl and this power imbalance makes u hate the ship ur supposed to be rooting for

- anyway blah blah PLot ShiT girl gets to go on the trip, but when we do get to the trip, literally none of it is covered????? it’s like one(1) sentence saying she gets to go and then pages about how she misses dudebro

- U WERE PLAYING THIS UP TO BE THE BIG CLIMAX TO THE STORY, THE BIG TRIP WE DESERVE TO SEE I AM RAGING BY THIS POINT

- im fuckin tired, story ends with the girl “surprising” dudebro on his mission in Antarctica and them saying they’ve fallen in love and other bullshit, neither of them has grown as a character, i hate them both and all in all this book is utter tRASH 0/10 WOULD NOT RECOMMEND

- like, Penelope........................GIRL................look I just wANT TO HAVE SOME WORDS(TM) thAT”S ALL

- THANK U 4 READING, I HOPE YALL HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY IN ISOLATIONx

- PS. IF I EVER SEE THE WORDS ‘ERECT NIPPLES’ AGAIN I WILL FUCKIN FLIP A TABLE

#I HATE THIS BOOK SO MUCH #books #my post

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ca1e70-deactivated · 4 years

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a list of my entirely way too niche headcanons ive actually implemented for everyones imagination:

name options ive used and refuse to retire: david elizabeth strider (sometimes i dont feel like being a douche to others and saying thats not his name), harley davidson strider, and david james strider for the sake of simplicity

im not gonna tell yall the like. oc exes ive given him bc thatll take eighteen years.

i dont rlly have an explanation on the ghost thing besides the fact he just can? ive occasionally pulled from family ghost stories and experiences bc i somehow got landed with family members who lived in a haunted house for a decade and enjoy scaring me with all the stories (including the time my cousin literally died on the kitchen floor from a bronchial spasm and one of the friends that was over asked my aunt later what was up with the old man she saw in the corner of the room that night - my cousin is fine btw shes just a huge bitch and a third grade teacher and i dont like her)

whether or not hes done drugs is based on absolutely nothing besides how im feeling in that moment. either hes the designated driver and sober friend forever or he got fired from his job after doing a line at work during graveyard with some random customers theres no inbetween (this absolutely happened @ waho. if dave works at waho hes a mess of a person and thats on the diner itself.)

ok look i hc dave w/schizophrenia besides when i was 14 i had a hyperfixation with learning about it and then at 16 was prescribed a medication and had side effects so wack my therapist genuinely thought 14 yr old me was onto something and its a weird way to cope with the idea that lady put in my head that i might “develop it in my twenties” which i turn 20 this year and i havent been able to stop obsessing and panicking over the prospect so PLEASE dont come in my inbox calling me ableist im not out here all harley quinn in suicide squad with the voices ok hes medicated, he goes to therapy, the hard fast delusion that lil cal was nearly sentient and informed bro of every single thing dave did no matter how asinine it was is no longer a debilitatingly affecting him ANYWAYS

i actually use the chicken/egg farming family pretty often just because its hilarious to me to give dave like. an actual mom and dad. hes literally an uncle to like three different kids he just never visits because they make fun of his skinny jeans and he hates one of his (incredibly bare-bones ocs all of them) brothers who threatened to bash his head in with a little league bat after dave broke his star wars lego set apart on accident (but not rlly) so their parents were like “why dont you stay with your brother in the big city for a lil while champ” and then they just never picked him back up? and thats on favoritism

the other one is that his name is actually david reed and hes the middle child of a family of three who literally live the standard golden retriever white middle class life only they went to disney land or something equally as dumb one year when dave was like 6 and he wandered off so bro literally just went “huh free game” because frankly he was an idiot who thought maybe i should take this kid home because its real dangerous in parking lots and then it was too late to NOT have it seem like a kidnapping and thats why daves never had a summer job, seen his birth certificate, or gone to school. but vaguely remembers what kindergarten was like and having a pet dog and calling someone mom as a kid.

im not making a bullet point about his sex life headcanons just use your imagination and acknowledge the fact bro essentially worked within the sex industry and i enjoy putting dave through trauma as a catharsis

i stopped doing this one usually but if he did go to school hes been in percussion since fifth grade and played the drums in his high schools jazz band as well as various edgy teenager garage bands he likes to pretend dont have a youtube presence and that hes absolutely never been shirtless in front of plenty of his classmates because he wore a hoodie to a show like an idiot. idk occasionally ill put him in an actual band he doesnt hate but keeps separate from his lil turntechGodhead internet persona (which i will ALSO touch upon in a sec) until they wind up getting looped into a tour with some bigger named band that has a show in *insert beta kid here*’s city and hes gotta come clean solely so he can visit his online friend. sorry derseasterous thats the one time weve ever run into each other and i made him have a crush on one of his bandmates i was in my anti-daverose phase where i made dave a hoe and also didnt want to admit i still loved the ship all these years later

i hate it so much but you know the whole vr loli trap voice shit that was popular a while ago? hes fucking baller at it for some reason. he did it as a joke while talking to bro and they both about shat their pants. if im feeling real ambitious, hes got a separate soundcloud solely dedicated to doing dumbass rap covers or making his own but in the voice under the pseudonym elizabeth “beth” davids that he will never admit is his. well, he will, but hes gonna be really fucking embarrassed about it. irony or not.

talking abt seperate soundclouds and stuff ive always had it where turntechGodhead was his like. essentially internet fucking persona facade shit he used because we all had that phase where we wanted memorable urls and stuff but also didnt want to totally ignore the nagging fear of people finding you in real life, until it turned into real life ppl finding you on the internet. so he also has basically an adjacent set of social media under the same name but its just a boring username i havent decided on so everyone he knows irl doesnt mix up with what hes made for himself as TG and the people he knows as TG dont know what highschool he goes to. (this occasionally comes with the territory of ppl on parp being pissed that daves “lying” or “hiding things” from his friends as if he was doing it out of spite instead of just keeping embarrassing tagged photos and videos from football games or when he ate shit at the skatepark from fucking with his “rap career”)

every once in a while i get on a kick where hes just german. like, i just replace houston texas with hamburg germany and have him apply to a university in whatever state is applicable for whoever im chatting with and it goes from there? sometimes he moved when he was little and went through the whole visa thing, sometimes he didnt go through the visa thing, sometimes hes a dual citizen because of family and shit, its all dependent on what suits the situation best.

one that ive been fucking with for a while but hardly break out (until recently with like 5 roses in the span of one day hell yeah) is that he has a neighbor at the end of the hall who is like a thousand year old witch lady that hes basically adopted as his mother figure in lieu of not having one and shes totally cool with it, especially bc when she kicks the bucket she fully plans on giving dave all her occult stuff so her figure-skating coach and realtor daughter doesnt sell it at a garage sale and lets it all go to waste. she also once brought rose up by name in a conversation without any prompting of her existence which dave didnt realize for days, and then one time cryptically stopped and stared at an empty space in the wall, went “she has potential, you know.” then looked at him sitting on her kitchen counter with a smile “lots of it” and hes thought about that weekly ever since. (it is important to note one of the occult items he leaves her is literally her own personal book of shadows shes been filling out for decades its like a 600 page leatherbound book dave has no idea what its used for but the sheer amount of homemade spells and etc in it is like. gonna murder rose the second this chick gets her hands on it i promise you.)

theres the standard strife shit? im not rlly gonna get into those theyre all basically cookie cutter bullshit. its just standard bro and dave abuse talk. i like to inclulde the whole 24hr live cam up in the apartment that definitely watches dave in every room besides his own and the bathroom, but that quickly delves into the prospect of middle-aged men stalking him online and basically sexually harassing him in his own god damn home by talking about how they can see him just trying to take his shoes off in the living room after getting home and frankly? its not one of my best takes! but once you throw it into the headcanon bin, its there forever.

he actually really does do something with his photography but not enough to warrant anything exciting, but he has his own branding for it and regularly takes pictures of his friends or anything else he thinks is moderately interesting enough to take pictures of, but those are just thrown into shoeboxes under his bed in favor of posting genuine shots because he wants to keep his image intact and blurry photos of jade smiling in the tree they climbed up together while bec paws at the base of it while whining isnt exactly something he wants the whole world to see.

i also pretty often but him into either paleontology OR i put him down as trying to become a mortician because he thinks handing roadkill once he graduated from museum giftshop specimens to doing his own taxidermy on the side has prepared him enough to perform an occasional autopsy and start embalming real human corpses. (sometimes i put my own desires in and make them his bc i have to project at some point and put him through the same EMT course i dropped out of bc it was one semester and he already has pretty decent first aid skills, but he definitely didnt expect it to be as fucking wild at times as it is, but whats he gonna do? get a job back at waffle house? the company hes working for just offered to pay like half his associates in paramedicine tuition and hes already got all his pre-recs done when he started for paleo. at least its a stable job and hes got the ability to be compassionate in the moment)

im running out of things that ive done to the poor kid. OH

hes not a virgin he had a girlfriend all four years of high school (shes also one of his optional and designated exes plz keep up) and their relationship ends in one of two ways: she dies in a car accident a week before their high school graduation, or she stops talking to him entirely a week after their high school graduation until a couple years later she gets into (guess what) a car accident with her current wife/girlfriend and dies which leaves behind their daughter. who just so happens to also be daves daughter. her name is hannah and i love her like my own but no one ever likes her and thats on the conditioning of dirk. does dave end up taking her in? yes. shes awesome and the first time he takes her to the park to like run off some fucking steam she disappears for two minutes and dave is moderately terrified until she comes back holding a dead baby squirrel and thats the moment he realizes huh maybe things really do be genetic.

ok at the bottom of the list im gonna add the couple of times hes been a camboy which usually coincides with the live apartment cam thing and the amount of people in his dms calling him hot or whatever, but typically its more of a started the day he turned 18 and basically dipped around 20 in favor of showing up randomly with no warning to complain about a video game dick in hand because it gives him an outlet that wont annoy his friends bc this is the fifteenth time hes had a lot to say this week about a certain boss battle and also the comments fuel his ego and daddy issues.

the last one wasnt the bottom but literally unless its explicitly proven otherwise every time anyone rps with me there is the underlying fact dave strider was a goalie on his high school lacrosse teams all four years and (shocker another one) definitely had the hots for one of his teammates like major hots like first gay experience hots. like it was painfully obvious that teammate also liked him back hots. like one night at a team sleepover one of the other guys was like can yall just makeout and get it over with were fucking tired and dave really had the balls to be offended and ask what the fuck they were talking about while literally sitting halfway in the mans lap bc for some reason they had to share the same chair.

he is also guilty until proven innocent of being the worlds biggest loner outside of that sports team and even though hes literally a jock he still opts to eat his lunch alone in the hallway or something like that and has a tendency to leave girls on read, but bc hes got an in with the rest of the jocks hes basically drug around to plenty of parties and since hes conventionally attractive enough and popular in the aloof way that he is, hes got plenty of tagged insta posts and twitter directs and snapchat streaks going.

THESE WERE ALL NO GAME AND DONT INVOLVE SHIPS BC I LIKE TO KEEP MY OPTIONS OPEN AND THEYRE LITERALLY ALL BASED OFF RPS IVE DONE I HOPE YALL JUDGE ME ACCORDINGLY

#theres probably so many more i mean #ive been on parp for at least 5-6 years now #ive been on cherubplay probably the same amount of time #and my memory is totally shot to fuck but these are just what i know ive done in the last YEAR #or thought were wild enough to remember #i put it under a read more bc frankly its really fucking long #and i dont want this to represent me entirely #these are also heavily situational based and not like. emotion or reaction based much?#some of them are #i guess i could rename this to like. things ive done on parp #but theyre technically still headcanons a lot of them can coincide with whatever #so theyre not very specific situations #anyways #this took me an hour

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kentaurex · 5 years

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first pass wip of one of the polyship week things that ill probably never finish because guess whos’s a public enemy of the illuminati and has more sad out of state things to do all of a sudent thats right this bitch

the post was something something au where you dont dream until you turn 18 and then ur first dream is abt ur soulmates ill ofc link it when its all done but im

also also i am fairly certain this entire finished thing will be getting a Grapihc Depictions of Violence tag and im also fairly certain its entirely because of this first bit

ann/gun/pau; as if you even needed to ask me :”)

supposed to be under a readmore, mobile readers im so srry yall

(not to self nail dow whether u want third or second person)

His first dream is a nightmare.

It’s dark, and it’s cold, and he’s dying. He doesn’t know how he knows he’s dying, but he – or at least, the person he is in the dream – knows it. Knows it deep in his soul. He’s dying, part by part, piece by piece. Something acid-hot is burning its way through every single <<thessaurus: part>> of his body.

He can almost taste the blood.

Standing above him is a figure. His soulmate, he supposes. Tall, large, towering, menacing. A figure cloaked in shadows, somehow. A misty, hard-edged soft-edges outline of layers. Not a person. Yes, a person. Further in the background, too, is another figure, though their presence he more senses than sees. An emanating miasma of coldness.

He’s not afraid of them, perse. They are terrifying, he knows. They’re augs – though mom had been augmented, and dad more terrified of what had been done to the augmented than he ever was of a bit of chips and metal. He’s not afraid of that. They’re equipped – somehow he knows it – with heavy duty combat augs, too. Worn, polished, well-used combat augs. But that fact also fails to frighten him. A part of him is even glad. If they are his soulmates, and they are military, then certainly they’ll help him track down the people who blasted his family apart. Track them, find them, and bleed them for all they’re worth, what ever little that is.

He’s not really afraid of them, perse.

But in this, his first dream, this first dream, in this dream he’s dying on the floor. He’s being eradicated from the inside out. He’s choking on his own breath, seizing over the feeling of his own innards being torn apart as if they’d been strung out over a shredder. He’s laying on the ground in this dream, afraid of what the hell is happening to him, and these shadows, these shades, these soulmates…

They do nothing.

They don’t even move to try.

And he could handle that, maybe. The past year of his life has been a series of people staring impassively at him while he drowns in what’s been done to him. But…

In this dream, he knows with certainty he is dying.

And in this dream, in this horrible, twisted, cold, clingy, clammy nightmare, he doesn’t even ask them for help.

They won’t give it to him.

He shudders on the ground. He’s got to try, though. Right? He splits his lips open to say why, tell me, help me, please-

The laugh that emanates from him instead is both his voice, and eerily different. He laughs, dissolves into coughing, hacks up a black clot of blood and laughs again.

When he does speak, his voice is cracked, and broken, and vicious.

“I’m not sorry,” he spits, craning his neck up to stare at the looming figure. Pain shoots down his spine at the effort. “I’m not sorry,” he says, “And I’d do it all again.”

The shade raises a gun, and fires, and that’s your first dream.

First dream.

Not first nightmare.

The nightmare has been happening. The nightmare is happening. The nightmare is when you tell your court-appointed therapist about the dream the next day, and he reports it in your mental wellness assessment, and the circuit judge rules you too unstable from the accident to take care of your brother. The nightmare is when they take your brother from you and you scream, and no one does anything except stick you back in the psych ward for another week while they wait and watch. The nightmare isn’t the reoccurring dream of your maybe-so-maybe-not soulmates. The nightmare is the reoccurring dreams of the second before the autopilot in your parents car was hacked.

When you turned 18, you were supposed to be able to clearly see your soulmates in your first dream. The fact that you can’t is eventually one of the few comforts that sleep brings.

#kentaurex n0tebook - WIPS

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ladycavalier · 5 years

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yesterday i found out that someone i thought i was friends with actually secretly hates me and i am here to vent

I forgot to go to a small class i have on fridays (got there late, better than never). My friend hanna was in the room and she said the person in question said “Thank God she isn’t here,” and Hanna asked why and he said “She’s so freaking irritating”and when the teacher said maybe i just forgot, the person said well maybe if i had actually come to class the friday before (i was at NATS, with all the other vocalists) i would have known there was a test that day. Hanna said that she told them i DID know there was a test bc i studied for it with her, and the person said then i was either dumb or didn’t care. Nobody else said anything in my defense

This is in addition to finding out yesterday that my group of friends’ first impressions of my ranged from annoying, to ditsy, to creepy. Which didn’t bother me too much, i thought, bc they all said that they liked me and it wasn’t creepy or ditsy in a cringe way, and these are the same people that asked me out to dinner with not a day before, but after hearing about the way the previously-esteemed person thinks of me, it’s really really disheartening

I have been struggling this whole month with not liking myself as genuinely as i ever have before, and that just brought it home how much there is to not like, and it’s not even a matter of “well look at yourself and make a change then” bc it’s not just things like being codependent, it’s just my personality. And it’s worse that people on here have been so encouraging, stupid as that sounds, bc A) i feel ungrateful for still feeling so icky abt myself when they think so highly of me, like it’s like my brain is going what they think doesn’t even matter, and i hate that, and B) it just makes me wonder if someone can only be my friend for so long/get to know me so well before it stops. Every. SIngle. Friendship/relationship i have EVER had has had these exact phases: likes me but doesn’t know me that well; gets to know me better and still likes me; prolonged rough patch; and finally, either gets use to me or stops. I have seen it over and over and over again enough to know it’s completely true, and i can count on literally one hand the number of people i have loved dearly who have survived the process and stuck with me. People i thought would be lifeloing friends, people i respected and liked a lot, even my very very favorite teacher, so many people have ended up not getting past the rough patch stage, and i always just thought that either we had to part ways before they got used to me and it was just bad luck, or they just didn’t like me enough to stick it out, and if they had they would have come back around to liking me. But no im thinking its not just that, and that’s not just ok, its not ok that half of the people i make friends with might grow to dislike me, and that idek if Hanna will still like me at the end of the year or not bc there is no way to know. Its really come home that i somehow drive people away and the better they get to know me, the more time they spend with me, the more chance there is of them not loiking my anymore. Srsly, my BFF has told me herself that once she graduated and stopped seeing me everyday at school, she liked me better. If she sees me too often, she gets tired of me. The same with my own mother. Idek what the heck im supposed to do when i get married and see that person everyday.

That’s why people like tallestsilver and epwhales liking me makes a part of me even sadder, bc maybe they do see the best in me that’s really there and maybe do actually like me, but thats just bc its the internet and only certain parts of me show. If yall knew me in real life, maybe i wouldnt even be that different than on here, but after knowing me for a year or two that could all change and there is know way to know. I dont know whether its something genuinely wrong with me, like stuff i can fix if i work hard enough, or if it really is my personality and “theres nothing wrong with that” and just 80% of the people i meet wont like me and “thats their problem,” and i know wanting people to like you but not everyone likes you is just a human thing, but thats not ok with me. Its not ok that i am genuinely questioning what are the chances of my current good friends getting to know and dislike me, wondering whether it will last, genuinely and unironically hating myself for the first time ever, genuinely considering whether its better just to keep some relationships distant that way the person will keep liking you. Like, if anyone else came to me and told me they were feeling those things, i would be like no that is not good. Prolly tell them to see a therapist. But thats to fix things and accept yourself, but if my self is the problem and its things i cant change that are driving people away, idk what could possibly be done with that.

ANd then i am just too lazy to actually get help and try to fix the things that can be fixed. A whole other layer of self loathing.

I have never hated myself before, but i have cried in frustration at the way i am so many times this month, more and more and more im seeing the ways i suck, how people just get tired of me, and if i am too lazy to do anything about it, or if i really can’t change it, or if something is wrong with me that i can’t appreciate the people who actually appreciate me,...that just sucks. And evne then my brain goes “yeah but how long before THOSE people end up the same way?”

People get tired of me, but if someone said that to me i would be thinking, well maybe it’s YOU not them? ANd that’s what I’m thinking. 80% of my good friends either end of getting tired of me and ghosting me, or outright disliking me. That’s a pattern that says I need to fix something badly, but idek where to begin, and what if it’s really JUST FREAKING ME, my personality, things i can’t change. I’m freaking doomed. I really really am starting to see that, and I’m starting to really hate myself for it, which i know is not the right thing to do, and pardon the melodrama here but who wouldnt hate the person who is resposnible for so much of your misery.

#personal #vent #bad times

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saintkimora · 7 years

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ok, here is a full account of what happened yesterday and the new events from today. caleb if you are seeing this please respect my privacy and stop reading now

ok so it started the other day. caleb texted me at night saying he wanted to talk to me about something serious the next day. i asked what it was about and he said he just wanted to be friends but i didnt read too much into it bc he is impulsive so i figured he would come to his senses the next day

so then yesterday happened. i had just gotten out of sociology at like 10:40am and i saw that he had texted me all these things about breaking up. then when i got to my car he called me on the phone. he then proceeded to break up with me over the phone. his reasoning was that since hes prob moving in a few weeks, he wanted to stop being boyfriends now that way when he does leave itll hurt less than it would, so like easing himself out of the relationship basically. i think its a stupid idea

so these are the issues i had. the first was that he broke up with me over the phone, not even in person. and like i was crying over the phone and his tone was just like very cold and detached and business like and that really hurt me bc he obv knew i was crying but i didnt feel any sympathy from him whatsoever. like if he was crying i would obv be comforting him and trying to make him feel better not talking like a robot. another thing that hurt was that he gave up on the long distance relationship before we could even try it. it made me feel like i was so worthless and unimportant that he didnt even feel like putting forth the effort to make our relationship work. and the fact that he did this all over a 10 minute phone call on his way to the gym. and then like 20 min after he had the NERVE to post a video on his snap story of him at the gym saying “feeling so good *blushing smile emoji*” like that really hurt my feelings and when i told him that later he was like “oh stop making everything about you it was just how i was feeling after working out” but like? i know he obv wasnt saying that he felt so good about breaking up. but what bothered me was that like after he broke up w me, i was a mess i was literally crying all day and i couldnt do anything but cry i was so upset. and then here he is just going on with his day like its another normal tuesday. like the fact that he was capable of being so happy not even a few hours after breaking my heart made me feel like i was nothing, like it was just an errand like “oh im gonna break up with perry then go to the gym lol” and the fact that he did it over the phone just made me feel so insignificant like i was nothing to him and that really hurt. and like ive tried to be the best boyfriend i can be for him and i try to do everything he asks of me so for him to just break up with me in such a dismissive way makes it feel like he doesnt even care

so i was crying in my car, like really bad like i was BAWLING. so i went to the student counseling center and asked for a crisis meeting and i got set up w this counselor named josh. he was nice and tried to help me calm down and focus on orgo. it was nice to have someone to talk to i guess

so then i went home. he called me again to like try to explain himself but only made me feel worse. he was like “you know when i move im not gonna be able to see you everyday and cuddle with you and fall asleep on your chest anymore” and that just made me sadder and i was crying again on the phone. then later we were texting and he was like denying breaking up with me. like, you said you wanted to just be friends and you explicitly said that you didnt want to be boyfriends anymore so how is that not breaking up??? and he said “i was trying to have a conversation with you but all you did was cry.” with the period to show how serious he was. and it really hurt me when he said that bc it felt like he was mad at me and using me crying against me, like i somehow did something wrong by crying. again if he was the one crying i would not be holding it against him like that so i really wish he didnt say that bc it made me feel bad for being emotional which should not be something to feel bad about. and at the end of the call he didnt say i love you like he always does so that hurt my feelings as well

and like i took away the hearts from his contact name and changed my phone backgrounds since they were pictures of him and that just made me really sad

i skipped psych and anatomy lecture but i couldnt skip my anatomy practical. i cried when i was backing up my car to leave bc i saw the “hi <3″ that he wrote in the dirt on my back windshield a while ago and it just set me off. so i got to school and i was planning on having this be the dropped grade so i wasnt like worried but i got a 90 anyways so that was nice. the prof was like “perry whats wrong you look depressed” and i was like im just a little sad today and he was like why and i was like “bc my significant other broke up w me” (i used s/o bc idk how my prof is about those things so i didnt wanna say bf). he told me this story about how in his senior year of college he had such bad mono it was misdiagnosed as hodgkins disease so he was given 18 months to live and his gf of 4 years left him after finding out. so he told me “perry, girls are like a bus. if you miss one, another one will come along in 15 minutes. if i had daughters i would tell them the same thing about guys” so that was nice that he tried to cheer me up. then when i was leaving from the other room (bc we leave our stuff in the other room during the practical) the TA came to me from the main room and wished me luck on my finals so that was nice of him

so then i went home. then at 10pm i met w caleb in person in his car. we talked and at first he would not let me get a word in and he just kept defending himself and what also upset me was that he thought the reason i was so upset was that he was moving and he was so defensive like “i wish i could stay here but i have no choice i cant afford to live here its too expensive” and like that is not what upset me!!! i already knew he was moving ive had time to accept it what upset me was how he broke up w me for no reason w almost no warning and did it in such a cold way. and like the way i see it is since hes leaving instead of easing ourselves out of the relationship to stop us from getting hurt when he actually leaves (which wont happen bc itll hurt regardless), i figured we should make the most of our time together and enjoy each other as much as possible since we’ll have plenty of time to get over each other AFTER he moves. so when i told him my point of view he was like “i wish i thought of it like that, im really bad at this” so that was how i resolved the issue. he was hesitant about keeping the bf label but i told im i really wanted to and i didnt see a point in taking away the label now anyways. i also told him i at least wanted to try long distance instead of giving up before it even happens. i dont remember what he said to it though lol i was too emotional. but yeah the beginning of the convo just felt like he was berating me and i started to cry again bc i dont like it when hes rude to me like that

then he told me that im so sensitive i could see a squirrel in the road and cry and i had to explain to him that i am not a sensitive and emotional person! im normally v reserved w my emotions like ive only cried maybe 3 times the past 8 years and that im just emotional when it comes to him bc i care about him so much

another thing that bothered me was that he said every relationship teaches a lesson, and from ours he learned not to rush into things. i dont get that bc yes we did rush but that wasnt really a bad thing? like he wouldve moved regardless so taking things slow wouldnt have changed that. and like since we rushed into things it will hurt more when he leaves since we are closer than we would be if we took it slow but also like, if we didnt rush we wouldnt have gotten so close and had so much fun together in the first place. so imo the benefits of getting so close so fast vastly outweighed the pain of him leaving

so everything would be great except for this next part. he told me the easing out of the relationship thing was bc he got the advice to do that from his mom and leeann. so when i got home i made a post calling leeann toxic and his mom stupid for interfering in our relationship. and like yall can tell that obv i was kidding and just exaggerating for humorous effect like i dont really think his mom is stupid or that leeann was toxic, just that their advice in the situation was bad. but caleb texted me this morning being so rude calling me disgustingly disrespectful for saying that and he said that “next time you think about doing this remember how it felt when i dumped you (so he admitted that he did dump me) - and get those tissues ready” (since ive been using a lot of tissues since i was crying so much). that really really hurt my feelings bc 1. he is once again using me crying against me and 2. it shows a total lack of sympathy for me crying, like it felt like hell yesterday i was so upset and he knows that so for him to threaten to put me through that again just shows he doesnt really care about me or my feelings.

he also said i need to stop using him and leeann and his mom as “characters in your online stories” like...these arent online stories? this blog is where i vent and talk about my feelings since i dont have anyone to do that with irl and i need to get them out somewhere im not writing these posts to be mean it just feels good to put my thoughts into words instead of bottling them up and even my therapist thinks its a good thing for me to do

so he said that but i was NOT having it. i typed up a long text in response and even i admit it was kinda mean. like in his he said “dont even talk to me for the rest of the day” so at the end of my text i said “dont talk to me ever i am perfectly fine w never talking to you again the rest of my life so bye have fun in new hampshire or whatever” and he was like “perry stop you dont mean that last part” and then he called me and once again got defensive he said he was just trying to have a convo w me and i was being aggressive for no reason. like, no??? a convo would have been texting me like “perry i know its your personal blog where you post your feelings but this post upset me and this is why” not coming at me with 4 super rude texts out of nowhere. so he was trying to play the victim and paint me as irrational and that im overreacting just like he did yesterday and i didnt like it! he was just dismissing my feelings again. so i went OFF in this phone call like wow i really snapped and it felt good tbh

like i think he was just expecting me to sit there and take it and apologize like i usually do when he gets like this but i am done doing that! so i think he was caught off guard that i stood up for myself. i was like caleb i really dont care i have the most important orgo test of the semester today you already took yesterday from me but today i am not entertaining it if you have an issue call me after my test” and i ended the convo and hung up and then he texted me “good luck on your test” like ok hi king of passive aggressiveness

so thats it. i felt good at first but later on i felt bad so i texted him apologizing for snapping at him but i said i wont discuss the tumblr issue until we are in person. i asked if he was free tonight and he said no he wants a day or two to be separate and normally i would understand but like...hes moving in a few weeks i really dont want to waste time fighting and being in this weird place

not to be out of order but another thing that got on my nerves was when we made up last night. he said “once i move youll have more free time for things like school, work, maybe going to the gym” like once again here he is commenting on my appearance! like yes i know im scrawny and i wish i wasnt but im sick of him taking jabs at my looks like my body, acne, and eyebrows when i literally have NOTHING but nice things to say about how he looks. it makes me feel bad when he points out my flaws like that and a good boyfriend is not supposed to make me feel like that

now for the most recent development. leeann sent me this LONG fb message bc caleb told her what i posted about her. like why does he have to expose me like that! i didnt read the message i was like “yeah im not reading this but just so you know i was kidding i wasnt serious i was exaggerating lol” and she was like ok lol

i just dont know why she thinks i care about her input on MY relationship? like youre calebs friend not mine to be frank i dont give a fuck what you think about whats best for my relationship like you dont know me so mind your business

and thats another thing. in the past caleb has gotten pissed at me for sharing our business too much (by telling my friends (who he will literally never meet since they all went away for school) and by posting on here) yet here he goes telling leeann everything! seems hypocritical to me

and heres a second thing. i have always told caleb that my blog is my personal space where i can safely vent and talk about my feelings and that he should respect my privacy by not reading my personal posts. and ive told him that if he does wanna read them then hes doing so at his own risk bc im not going to filter myself bc this is MY space not his so if he really wants to overstep his boundaries and look at my posts then he cant get mad at me for them bc HE is the one choosing to read them even after my warning! so i dont think he should be getting mad at me especially when i was in such an extreme state of mind yesterday since he put me through the worst day of my life for no reason which literally couldve been 100% avoided if he had just waited to talk to me in person instead of breaking up w me over the phone. and like now i feel like this isnt even a space place for me to express myself anymore since theres a chance of him seeing. and i tried blocking him before but he made a new blog and wont tell me the url so i cant block him smh

so yeah thats everything that happened. im kinda stressed rn w this whole leeann drama even though he shouldnt have been reading my posts in the first place. like its just so much drama and i dont like how it feels and idk why this relationship turned sour so fast and i wish he would just be nice and sweet to me again. so hopefully things get better

#this is so long omg #if any of you actually read all of this or even just skim it i love you <3 #personal

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bngtnblues · 7 years

Text

letters to an angel

genre: college AU/angst

author’s note: I’ve written three jimin fluff drafts but at the end, unsurprisingly, it’s got to be an angst. Warning: this scenario does have mentions of depression, mental disorders, and death. Credit to @saliechelon255 for making the beautiful gif above ♥‿♥ hope yall will like my first scenario for our chimchim (｡◕‿‿◕｡) and thanks to the lovely anon who requested and had to wait quite long for it. oh, and remember to request!!!

pairing: jimin x reader | scenario

blurb: A bunch of scattered letters from a girl to a boy who stole her heart and took it beyond the stars and above.

////01

Dear Jiminie,

My hands are shaking now as I’m writing this. It’s been a year and they still tremble whenever the pen begins to nearly bead onto the page. It’s a sight I’ve gotten used to every day. I guess, whenever I try to start this letter, it’s as if an upsurge of fear and all the anxiety that’s taken so long to stumble through appears in a cataclysm of waves. I close my eyes, hold my breath, and pray it doesn’t bury me.

I’ve written only seven lines and I can already feel it in my chest.

Shit. I’m crying.

Shit. Shit. Shit. I promised myself I could do this. I promised myself that I could write this letter. I promised so many promises it seems I only break them.

I miss you so much it scares me to the point of-

I can’t do this. I can’t stop crying and the paper’s all drenched from my tears and the ink’s blotched and everything is a mess.

I’m sorry.

I’ll try again tomorrow. I promise.

I’m so sorry.

////03

Dear Jiminie,

It’s my third letter. I’ve learnt to domesticate the upsurges and the waves now. Sometimes, my vision starts to blur and my hands turn numb but the thought of you somehow reading these letters has become a constant comfort.

It was my therapist who suggested the idea. Therapist Joon as I like to call him. He’s my second one so far and he’s not so bad too. At any rate, writing to you is growing into an addiction, Jiminie. It’s the only thing I look forward to doing in the extent of this twenty-four-hour span. Nowadays, I live in a perennial state where I’ve come to accept pessimism, with all of its negative intentions, because there seems to be no good in this world and it’s exhausting trying to find some.

I thought you’d want to know that Taehyung’s moved out of your dorm, he couldn’t bear sleeping in there and you’ll find him most of the time dozing off in the theatre’s backstage. I barely see Hoeseok anymore. He reminds me with monthly texts of the upcoming dance productions but he and I both know, what’s the point of going when you won’t be there. I haven’t seen Yoongi ever since you left. I once got a random postcard from Quebec wishing me well and as for Jungkook… he’s not doing too well, Jiminie. I’ll see him in one of my lectures with dark circles and he’s so thin now. He’s apparently been diagnosed with insomnia ever since he found you that day.

You know where I am right now? I’m sitting on our bench, the one on the beach near your house. I used to wait here while you were at rehearsals, the faint breeze brushing my nose and a clear sight of the stars sparkling in a world of darkness. It seemed like hours since I could finally see you running with a bag of snacks in your hand as an apology. You’d be panting when you reach me, kissing away the small pout on my lips considering even a small kiss from you, Jiminie, is like setting off a kaleidoscope full of stardust in me. It would leave me always airheaded. You had the kind of effect that could make a shrivelling weed convince itself it was a rose in full blossom.

We would sit side by side, you gazing at the sky, and me gazing over at you. Your eyes would be shining from the reflection of the stars, your hair matted from sweat but I would still sweep them over, your cheekbones glistening under the light as you patiently sipped on the bottle of milk.

You once pointed out a star in the sky, almost invisible to an eye and said, “ I promise one day, I’ll go as far as giving you that star Y/N.”

I remember scoffing, “As if. Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Park Jimin.”

You turned to me, your eyes no longer shining and whispered, “Believe me, Y/N, I intend on going.”

And you did go and I’m still waiting here, Jimine. Still waiting for you give me that star.

////04

Dear Jiminie,

It’s early morning here and I can’t sleep, love. My mind has become cursed from thinking too much. It’s gotten used to wandering off into different dimensions where you’re still lying beside me.

Your brother came by my dorm yesterday. He’s taller now, probably taller than you. He talked about the how your father’s changed and how your mother keeps calling your voicemail. Then there was an awkward silence between us. He left after awhile. He looks so much like you, Jiminie.

I’ve realised it’s been one year and twenty-one days. One year and twenty-one days without those sweet coaxes of whispers into my ear. One year and twenty-one days without the feeling of your soft tufts of hair between my fingers. One year and twenty-one days without the stroke of your lips against mine. One year and twenty-one days since I’ve felt your fingers grasp mine as you hummed a melody while we walked to the library. One year and twenty-one days without hearing you laugh at the most pointless things. One year and twenty-one days since I’ve seen that smile that inexorably causes my breath to hitch.

It’s been one year and twenty-one days since you decided your life wasn’t worth living, Jiminie, and once again, I sit on the edge of this bed, inebriated with silent tears.

////06

Dear Jiminie,

Everything sucks. Professors piss me off with their overly-worrying questions, lectures tend to be the only time I can fall sleep, and my roommate is a bitch who thinks I need to ‘get back in the market.’

I told her to fuck off. She wasn’t too pleased and when I think about it, you would have made me apologise to her.

Anyway, I ate lunch with a group of friends today. Well, technically I sat with a tray of untouched stew while watching everyone smile and laugh while I didn’t. Nowadays, it takes actual effort to fake one or the latter and I don’t even have the energy to do that. On the other hand, the way people glance at me as I walk past or the way they talk to me now makes me wonder sitting on the edge of my bed isn’t a bad idea after all.

In the loneliest of nights, I find myself looking for your things, Jiminie. Like yesterday, I found a CD filled with your favourite music and there’s this particular song you always used to play to which you’d literally sweep me off my feet, making me abandon whatever I was doing, and waltz us around the room.

Remember that, Jiminie?

And a week ago, I found your scarf which you forced me to wrap around my neck on our second date, even when it wasn’t that cold. You were such a cheeseball. You told me to hold onto it with crimson cheeks and then shyly uttered that it suits me way better than it did for you.

I should have given it back.

It still smells like you.

////07

Dear Jiminie,

Therapist Joon asked me when was the last time I felt happy. I said I’m always happy. I talk when I’m happy. I breathe when I am happy. I smile when I’m happy. I’m even happy when I’m supposed to be sad.

He said that was one shit of a lie he’s ever heard.

////09

Dear Jiminie,

Sometimes I wish I never met you because then, I wouldn’t have any sleepless nights and I wouldn’t have to live with the knowledge that this world can be so fucking cruel.

Does that make me a fool?

////12

Dear Jiminie,

Talking. Eating. Breathing. Sleeping. Everything hurts really. I don’t understand why I’m still here. I stay up at night thinking where you are and where you’ve been and where you’re going and every night I wonder when you’re coming back.

Therapist Joon read me a chapter from this book today. It was about a boy, who kept all of his emotions and troubles locked up inside a clear blue bottle. He tossed the bottle far into the sea, except he didn’t see the thin, slithering piece of string camouflaged around his ankle. Slowly, it anchored him down and then one day the bottle cracked. It cracked so bad the boy found his reflection the next morning with jagged lines running all over his face.

I told Joon I hated the story. It was too metaphorical for my liking.

He then finished off the session with a conclusion that a part of me blames myself for what happened and just like the boy, I’m bottling it all up.

He told me I need to start accepting your death.

death / deth / (noun) : the end of life of a person. the destruction or permanent end of something. period of greatest darkness, coldness, etc.

////13

Dear Jiminie,

There’s a red traffic light incessantly blinking inside me. It’s been like that ever since I wrote you the previous letter.

I knew a boy who was considered a disappointment in his parent’s eyes. Who was constantly reminded of the disreputable son - the auspicious heir who let down his family to become a dancer. All the more, the boy soon found judgement in everything, the dark thoughts of mediocrity and imperfection hissed in his mind while he twirled and leapt on stage. When he thought he could leave everything behind, it slowly ravaged inside him because he learnt to wear his happiness like some sort damnation, something he was forced to believe he could never truly deserve.

Along came his artful way to pretend which had everyone completely fooled. He plastered on smiles, always laughed a little more than needed, the persona never faltering.

You had us completely fooled, love.

But I started to notice everything, Jiminie; the sharp shards of glass in you, the tearstains you drowned in oceans the night before, the thorns you dug into your skin and scars you hid so shrewdly, how food had become your enemy and lying your best friend.

And I tried Jiminie. You know I tried. I tried to glue back the pieces that were hopelessly thrown away, I tried to take your pain away, even if it was only for a few minutes, praying when I was finished, you’d see yourself the way I saw you.

It was too late, though. I was so blinded by the light of saving you, I didn’t realise how there were still empty spaces embed in between the pieces, a bottomless vacuity where hopeful thoughts perished, and even if I took away your pain for a moment, it returned greater, more malignant, more poisonous each day. You told me with a sad smile there wasn’t any hope to begin with. As if it was the undeniable truth I had to accept.

But I couldn’t force myself to believe that. And I still can’t.

Did you honestly think it would’ve been easier for everyone if you just killed yourself, Jimin?!

Jungkook said you didn’t leave a note behind that day and I’m glad you didn’t because that type of notes hold a bunch of sorrys and goodbyes which embody complete lies. You’re not sorry for leaving me here. You’re not sorry for anything and I hate you so much for that.

////14

Dear Jiminie,

I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I look up into the night sky and it’s no longer the dark blue I once saw. It’s black and it’s dead and a star from the corner of my eye sits in space, unexceptionally desolate and dim, trying its utmost to shine in the night sky.

How come the night sky reminds me of you and the star of myself?

My breath and tears are all coiled into one substantial blob and my whole body feels like collapsing into destruction all because of you. You, who used to make daisies bloom onto my cheeks and orchids onto my heart. You, who took in complexity and emitted simplicity. You, who danced like a tragedy and now all of this makes my chest hurt.

I think you’ve turned me into a masochist, love. I think I like how my chest hurts when I remember the way you smelled like strawberries and the way your giggles still chime in my ears. Your cold fingers leaving chills on my skin and the spearmint your breath blew across my face. I remember the irregular galaxies inside your eyes and your nose tickling my neck and your arms which surrounded me at night.

I’ve succumbed myself to it.

I hate you but I’m in love with you. I hate you and I don’t want to love you anymore. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.

////15

Dear Jiminie,

Truth: I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. I want to hate you but I still want to love you.

I’m such a mess.

////17

Dear Jiminie,

Please come back.

I swear to god, I would do anything for you to come back.

Please, Jiminie, just come back so I can hear your heart beating and hold you tight and play with your hair and we can talk about anything or dance to anything.

I love you so much. Please come back.

Please.

////20

Dear Jiminie,

I’m standing on top of a building, and no, I’m not going to jump. Although, I would really like to sleep for a very long time.

I’m standing on top of a building, looking down onto the gleaming maze of a city, thinking about the time my nonexistent voice whispered, shouted, begged for you to not go.

I once asked you why you desperately wanted to leave. You tilted your head back and a low chuckle flew out of your mouth with irony. That sight will always be scratched in my mind, love. The airy eyes, deprived of any care in the world, lit up by one single notion, and then you said, “That’s where my paradise will be and this is my hell.”

You were always selfish.

I wanted you to realise paradise was actually here. I guess I was always selfish too.

////21

Dear Jiminie,

Hoseok spotted me on the beach, lying on the sand and the shells like a corpse. He asked me how I was. I couldn’t find the right words to say I’ve gone mental when it comes to my dead boyfriend so I chose to reside with the simple “I don’t know anymore.”

Which is the reality after all because I have no words to express how I feel. One minute, I’m okay then the next, I feel as if I could implode. I never chose to feel like this. I search for a place where the emotionless are but I think that’s inevitably impossible.

////24

Dear Jimine,

I’m watching the sunrise and it’s moments like this where you feel as if everything in the world stills to a halt and it’s like there’s a second where the universe tries to become like cosmos. There’s no noise, and yet, the birds keep singing, and there are so much light and darkness in one unified assortment.

Today’s your birthday, Jiminie, and I’ve realised saying goodbye to someone does hurt but you know what’s more painful? When you ask someone to stay when you know they want to leave so badly. You can’t change their mind no matter how many times your voice becomes raw from shouting and begging and the worst part is when they actually leave and you finally realise the proof that you didn’t change their mind one bit.

It makes me think that you never really needed me the way I need you.

Happy birthday, Jiminie.

////26

Dear Jiminie,

My roommate-who-I-never- talk-to-and-who-says-the-wrong-things-at-the-wrong-time made me sit down and watch stupid kitten videos.

I laughed and smiled once during all of it. She’s not as bad as I thought she was.

////27

Dear Jiminie,

This is what happened today.

therapist Joon: so, how are you today, Y/N?

“good”

therapist Joon: ahh, good. A word that seems so complete but isn’t.

I shrugged. The man is crazy philosophical.

therapist Joon: what I meant to say is how are you really today? Because when I ask you how you are, I really want to know.

“That’s great.”

therapist Joon: you know, Y/N? grief comes with a whirlwind of emotions which a human mind can’t fully comprehend and that’s nothing to be ashamed of. I know I’ve told you this before but keeping all that emotions deep beneath you is not going to make you understand anything nor will it help you.

“…”

therapist Joon: I’m not going to force you to say anything about Jimin. I know you talking about him is difficult and the letters seem to be doing some progress but just-just tell me if he liked the cafeteria food or if he hated the library because it has poor ventilation or something. Opening up about the tiniest details about him will help, Y/N. I promise.

“…..They gave out egg salad for lunch. He always hated it. It has that horrible smell.”

////30

Dear Jiminie,

I visited you today. I brought cherry blossoms and white carnations because they were your favourite. Funny how I used to put flowers in your hair and not on your grave.

////31

Dear Jiminie,

You loved rain and I hated it but today, it doesn’t bother me for the first time. I’m actually liking the sound of the drops hitting the window, exuding nostalgia of many things that has happened and never will happen. Stormy junctures like these make me hope that there are people who are just as lost as I am.

////36

Dear Jiminie,

The strangest thing happened today. I opened my eyes and it’s not so dark anymore. There were yellows and greens. There were pink and oranges. The night sky was still dead black and I can see that one star unconditionally shining to it’s uttermost, and the fact it keeps on shining in an abyss of total darkness made me think maybe it’s not so bad here.

These letters are becoming shorter. Sorry.

////37

Dear Jiminie,

Today, I ran into Jungkook and I guess it was something in his voice that made me sit down with him on a nearby bench. It was complete silence until he asked me why is it that the dead never really leave? Why does it feel like you’re still here?

I didn’t know how to answer since I didn’t know the answer itself.

He started crying after that and I’ve never seen Jungkook cry before. He was mumbling hastily that it was his fault that you’re gone and if he didn’t leave you alone in your dorm, none of this would happen. He was always so close with you, love.

Then, I hugged him. I hugged him so tight and god, he’s so thin. I was so scared that he would break from the pressure.

I gave him Joon’s number and an apple. Hopefully, he’ll use both.

////40

Dear Jiminie,

I went to see your parents. Your brother wasn’t home so it was just your father, who stares out into the distance now, and your mother, who’s locked herself up in your bedroom. She’s been like that ever since they cut your phone line. The butler still remembers me and the gardener gave me a tulip when I left. Your father no longer looks at me with dissatisfaction and I no longer look at him with despise. I guess we’re both mutual now.

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Dear Jiminie,

You existed for an innumerable number of reasons and I wish I could have told you each one, every day so you could have realised how much you matter and how much you will always matter to everyone you’ve left with a little imprint of yourself in their lives. You’ve only thought of yourself as a flaw who wasn’t worth being adored, worth being loved, worth being happy, worth having everything or being someone. You were flawed but yet you were immaculate and somehow you forgot you were worth anything at all.

Sometimes I forget that you’re not here with me, Jiminie. Sometimes I see a cute dog or hear something funny while I walk down the street and think that I’ll tell you later and then I’ll remember that I can’t because you’re dead and no amount of pleading or anger or sadness will bring you back. It was the undeniable truth that I’ve come to accept along with the reality that I’m still a collateral mess and I’ll always have bad days because they hold equal importance as the good ones.

I’m in a place in my life now where things are getting better. I’ve started up a little group at our college that raises awareness about suicide. I don’t want anyone else to experience the crippling pain of losing someone to it. I don’t want anyone else to experience what you felt here.

I’ve stopped going to Therapist Joon and on my last session, he told me how some people believed that the dead pervades in the creation of this world which was comforting because it’s nice to know you are in the trees and the ocean I walk past every day or in the stars.I bought Joon a bunch of mixtapes as a thank-you gift and he’s invited me to his boyfriend’s restaurant which I fully intend on going.

Taehyung no longer sleeps in the backstage of the theatre ever since the staff found out. Hoseok’s got a girlfriend and I’ve watched one dance production so far. Never as good as the ones you were in, Jiminie. Taehyung says Yoongi’s now somewhere in Australia. I don’t think he has a plan to ever come back here. Jungkook’s doing well. He goes to Joon now and most days we meet at a cafe so he has someone to talk to.

Your brother’s gotten a huge football scholarship and your parents are actually content with that. They’re all coping in their own ways and I try to visit them from time to time but it still hurts.

This is probably my last letter I’ll write to you. I want you to know I’ll always love you because I think even twenty years from now, I’ll still love you with all my heart could offer. There will presumably never be a day that I won’t miss you. This sounds all cliche and sappy. I guess I got that from you.

But you know what, Jiminie?

Love surpasses the borders of death and me living on this earth without you doesn’t matter anymore because one day, I’ll see you on the other side when it’s my time to get there.

Yours forever,

Y/N

ب_ب

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