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ilikekidsshows · 5 months ago

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You're not wrong about the fandom being not safe for people who has trauma or abuse victim, I've seen times and times again that Adrien being obedient and have no dream is proof that he's a sentimonster. What about me the? Even as an adult I still don't know what I want to do, what I want to be, I obey whatever my parents want me to do, am I a sentimonster then? I'm not human enough because my mind has been indoctrinated since I was young to always obey them??

Adrien want to be anything Marinette's want is cute! Adrien almost cataclysm Kim for prank that he did to Marinette that happened years prior is so romantic! Adrien being Marinette' therapist is so cool! Adrien disregarding his own feeling for Marinette is cool! Marinette trying to keep Cat in the team even though she need to manipulate him into revealing his identity to someone else is clever! ...those are some among other things that keep me second guessed myself and I'm not even someone who would usually be critical when I watch something and it still feels wrong. But the fandom keep telling me, the end justify the means. Marinette is care for Adrien so it's ok as long as he didn't know.

Do you think Marinette properly utilizes girl power when she treats Cat Noir as less than a person? The showrunners and the people supporting them sure do.

No, I dont. For me girl power is about "Girls can be a hero just like boys do" it's not about girls is better than boys and boys should just do whatever the girls want them to do like the show trying to say.

I grow up watching a lot of magical girl show and none of them actually ever treat the love interest as less than a person. The love interest grow along with those girls, they're never treated as less than those girls.

To be honest, the reason why I decided to watch Miraculous is because it has similar element with anime that I love, Shugo Chara.

>small fae like being that grant theim power to transform

>traumatized cat boy with his step father being the villain and also the love interest

>the "choosen one" girl

The fact that the PV make it seems like Cat Noir is an anti hero or morally grey character which is sounds like Shugo Chara cat boy, Ikuto, sold me to this show. I don't follow the update of the show, so when I watched it in the middle of s3 I thought the plot for Cat Noir is still the same but after I binge watching from season 1, I find that I don't mind the change from the PV Cat noir to Adrien since it still intrigue me. S2 is pretty hard to watch since that's when the secrets started. But like the fandom said "it will get better" and you know, I believe it. S3 come and... It become harder but surely now Ladybug become Guardian she'll let Cat in, right? It's not happen, it's never happen and s4 just frustrated me to no end and I stopped watching then, only following the course through some people review because I still hope something will get better. It's not.

I was hoping Adrien will get similar ending with Ikuto in Shugo Chara, that he got to confront the people who hurt him and fight along with others because that's how it should be right? Ikuto's stepfather is the villain, he used and even later brainwashed Ikuto to do villainy thing (even worse than what he did at the start) and he deserve to confront the man and fight for his freedom, which he did and he get the freedom that he want.

But what I saw from other review is not even close with what I imagined. Instead he was absent from the final battle and not even know that his father was the villain all along, worse because Ladybug said his father is a hero who help her fight the big bad and I couldn't help but to think just what the fuck is this show doing. (Sorry for language) And fandom actually praise Marinette action because? Apparently it's so selfless of her to be the matyr for someone she loves, it's romantic, it's cute and that it. I'm glad I don't watch s5 because if Kuro neko already make my anxiety skyrocketed, I don't know if I'm still sane after watching s5.

I don't think miraculous is all about girl power or the power of love is so strong. It's all about girl in power with the boy is... just the boy.

M sorry for the long post and the rant. This will be my last ask, I promise! Once again, thank you for all the validation and answer you provide me. Youre really a saviour for my mental health! Please take care.

~anon who got frustrated about Ladybug line in Kuro neko but is now enlightened and feel better than ever.

Thank you for sharing, Anon. And no worries about the cussing, I do it plenty.

Miraculous' version of girl power is one where everyone else gets put down in favor of elevating the wish fulfilment protagonist. It's the most prominent with Adrien, since he is supposed to be, according to merch, promotional materials, the show's title and the setting's structure, a main character, but everyone else is useless as well outside of supporting Marinette in doing the most important part of any battle. And she's also the only one to ever get any praise for saving the day.

Anime in general seems to do this sort of thing better than Miraculous (I think any show I've seen that does something Miraculous does has done it better). In Sailor Moon, the love interest Tuxedo Mask mostly provides Sailor Moon emotional support and distracts the enemy so that she can pick herself up and lauch a purifying attack. He is clearly playing second fiddle in combat. But, Mamoru is allowed to have aspirations outside of pleasing Usagi. He's even allowed to criticize Usagi when she does something wrong instead of the show going all "how dare you, a man, have emotions and opinions that don't comply with our female protagonist's desires!" Also, Usagi actually vocally appreciates Tuxedo Mask's help, he never has to question whether or not she does, and Usagi doesn't alone get all the glory. There's no Sailor Moon episode where Santa Claus himself declares Usagi the "nicest child in the world".

I've said this before, but it bears repeating: even the notoriously sexist battle shounen genre is more respectful of its love interest characters than Miraculous is of Adrien. They have a lot of agency in the romances, often even being the party that actively pursues a romantic relationship with the lead. And those shows don't go "how dare you only like this one part of the hero, you should like this part instead" on the love interest before they let the couples get together.

#ml critical #ml salt

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mydemonsdrivealimo · 1 year ago

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i support oc's rights- and their wrongs- please feed us in with the latest jensen lore 👀

@gutmeats

ty both of you i am so excited to talk about him

so WAYYYYY back, before i was in the fandom, i had quite a few darker backstories and versions of jensen. those were supposed to influence my current version, but because of the fandom i have definitely fallen into the hallmark effect (aka everything is perfect besides minor inconveniences or communication issues). i mean dont get me wrong its a little more than that, but it was still a little too nice for my liking

so i am going back to my roots and actually following through w more of the detailed, fucked up things he had done when he was in college (putting it under a cut bc it may be sensitive content to some)

also im putting this into list form bc i dont want to make words sound pretty rn <3

though i had said jensen had done party drugs while he was in the band, i tried to wrap it up too pretty. though he wouldve taken a break from the parties when he had is "minor" mental breakdown after he left the band, realistically it wouldnt have been that easy to stop them altogether. he was still in chicago all throughout med school, so he still had a lot of connections to the people who provided most of the shit he got into. he only wouldve stopped in his second to last, or last year of med school

on the note of his issues after leaving the band, those wouldve been worse, too. while he never wouldve said he was suicidal, did he really want to be alive?

also, those connections made it a lot easier for him to buy people off (usually with party drugs, but sex wasnt off the table). the band took a lot of his effort, and parties took a lot of his time, and maintaining a 3.75 GPA to keep his scholarships wasnt always feasible. he had people write papers for him, had them take quizzes, etc. nothing too serious, not like admissions essays or anything, but enough that getting caught wouldnt have been good

him being emotionally unavailable through med school is definitely staying, but with a bit of an edge, too. there were a few occasions where the people he was fooling around with wanted more, and he was not afraid to set the record straight. he could be cold and apathetic about it, and pissed off plenty of people in the process

on that note, the beginning of his and bryces relationship was a little more rocky. not by much, not in a way that would change their entire trajectory, but in a way that made it harder to get out of their friends with benefits deal. bryce had his own things going on, but jensen wasnt ready for anything too mushy gushy either. he wouldve been more strict about their deal, ofc a date here and there wasnt bad, but nothing too relationship adjacent. he started to slip on that after the chemical attack (when he realized he definitely was in love had A Thing for bryce)

those are the big points!! moving to boston was one of the best things that happened to him, and definitely is what helped him to heal. it was good for him to find new people but especially a new therapist

#jensen valentine #asks answers #open heart mc

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whimsetti · 4 months ago

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Romantic love has to be fake because tell me why it’s so damn easy to fake your feelings for someone?My current girlfriend and to be fair none of my ex partners could sense any dishonesty from me even though I found them all uninteresting,boring m and worst of all wastes of spaces that could stop breathing and would die in a car crash and I really wouldn’t care.Told the bestie all this and she says why don’t I just cheat.well that really isn’t an option.Not because I find it morally wrong that’s silly I have cheated multiple times before but because cheating will never get the relationship I want.pretending to love someone is easy just look at the relationship as a performance you have I give your all in and everything will work out fine a lot of people often mistakenly believe they can tell the difference between the copy and the original and that’s simply not true you might have a shot with something tangible but in actual human who can be adept liars to varying degrees? A but harder no?I remember when I was 14 I loved this character called urushihara from the devil is a partimer even though there was such little content for 9 months he consumed my life even to the point I would fall asleep to scenarios where we were together I would say dream about him while my teacher would drone on in online classes and I just kept rewatching the same 12 episodes of the anime just so I would keep getting that same feeling I felt when I first saw him on the screen to say I was obsessed was an over statement I was in love and sometimes when the manga panels of him that I would use to sleep werent enough I would cry myself to sleep whenever I realised that all these scenarios with him are fake and that he would never be real and that there was no person on this earth that would ever compare to him and I told my therapist everything I was feeling about him and asked why I loved him more than any of the people I had fucked and been in a relationship with and she told me that when it comes to emotions and feelings our brains can sometimes get confused with what’s real and what’s not she told me I could very much well be in love with urushihara hanzo and that just because he isn’t real doesn’t mean my feelings for him are too and while my memory is fuzzy of everything she said that day I got the first of what she was trying to say and it’s a sentiment that I carry with me to this day as long as you are convincing and passionate an most importantly “nice” people will only see the best in you you always have to remember that you only know as much as someone tells you that’s why you have cases where a man has been married the decades only for his first wife to realise he has been spreading his seeds around the world.so yea cheat if you want the person getting cheated on was less valuable for a reason.

#whimsetti

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mika-shion · 2 years ago

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Messy, Midnight Thoughts

Ah midnight... A wonderfully terrible time for a mind to wander amongst its own thoughts, whether they be good or bad, right or wrong, profound or basic, whatever. Midnight is the time for us overthinkers to either delve into the best or worst parts of ourselves.

Any number of things could be keeping me up tonight. My past friendships/relationships, the mountain of mistakes, cringy or embarrassing memories, or being terrified about the future and its uncertainty.

But no, tonight I am kept awake by a horribly sour stomach.

That being said though, it does give me more time to sit and think.

Every day that goes by it gets harder and harder to not acknowledge the numerous situations that I was ill-prepared for because of my questionably subpar schooling, amongst other things...

Most everyone's story is different, right? Well... While mine isn't packed to the brim with heartache nearly as much as others I know, each one has felt like one truckload after another. Each one being heavier than the last.

As I sit and dwell on some of these thoughts, I find myself realizing just how much weight I give to each of my thoughts and some of them have been made heavier, seemingly by choice.

What I'm saying is that, just like everyone else, I decide what ideas or concepts or whatever are important to me specifically and, at first glance, it seems like I've taken on unnecessary baggage that I probably shouldn't have.

However, upon closer inspection, I have also realized that I'm not entirely sure who I would be without some of these. Which worries me, not as much because of the uncertainty, but it's more so because these particular ideals/thoughts/feelings or whatever they are are a huge part of what's causing me the most grief at the moment, and it's caused me to consider letting them go.

"Well what are these thoughts or feelings" you might be asking, that's easy - some of it is my guilt, my conscience. Some of them are ideals or promises to myself that I've held on to for about as long as I can remember.

Y'see that's part of the trouble with my mind - Even with things that most would consider to be simple decisions, they become a thousand times harder when I begin to wonder why I stop to think about them at all. But see if I didn't do that, I know for a fact that I would come across as a much more heartless person than I actually am or want to be.

I feel like ever since I started seeing therapists at a young age, the concept of metacognition somehow ingrained itself into my mind. I instantly became obsessed with it without even realizing.

I trained myself to think about thinking before stopping to think because it helped me avoid conflict. (Yes that was a sentence I just wrote and you read)

Every new thought comes prepackaged with its own special flavor of anxiety just for me.

And you know what's worse? I experimented to see what it would be like if I didn't do this as much... Maybe about 4 or 5 years ago now.

It didn't end well and I somehow lost the ability to do it for a period of time. I've started trying it again recently and... It helps, I've gotten faster with it, and on top of spiking my anxiety it's also now extremely draining mentally and physically.

I normally save it for periods when I'm meditating, reflecting on what it is I want, what I've done recently to achieve these things, the conversations or interactions I've had, and why I did or said any of what I did.

See this feels so fucking weird to talk about... Because it feels like a thing that should more or less happen automatically, or at least it seems to with other people. Or maybe it's just another case of others being able to process information faster than I can. Which is fine, sort of. I've been trying to come to terms with that for a little while now, but it's a lot harder when I know there are things I can do to improve my ability to focus.

And the worst part is that every time a problem like this comes up, I'm always left to wonder if this is even something that anyone else struggles with, or if this is just another instance of me having missed out on some important class or whatever in school that would have explained even a fraction of this issue.

Either way, leaving me to feel inadequate.

I suppose there isn't much of a point to this anymore, I'm kind of just jotting down whatever comes to my mind in an attempt to lessen the load and maybe get some sleep.

All I can say is if by some chance I'm not alone in this particular issue, then please let me know. But if I am, then... Idk I just hope no one else has to deal with this at any point... Cuz good God does it suck lol

Anyway, love y'all and I hope you have a good week!~

#mika-talks #adhd #autism #metacognition

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gayelectro · 4 months ago

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Here's some shit from someone who's fed up of seeing the same myths, lies, and misconceptions around T. (BASED OFF OF MY EXPERIENCE IN THE UNITED STATES, IN A RED STATE.)

1. For fuck's sake, injections are not "better" than gel. Gel is different than injections, yes. But this idea that gel has slower changes or is inherently a worse method is just blatantly wrong. Gel might not be for you. Hell, gel wasn't for me! But my God, stop acting like your personal preferences are universal or backed up by anything empirical. I could go on and on explaining the differences between the methods, but I just want to get across that there isn't some "less gooder" way to take testosterone. There's just methods that may work for your body and lifestyle choices and methods that don't.

2. Changes from T don't "plateau" at two years. Think about it, just for a second. We call HRT a second puberty, right? What kid goes completely and utterly through puberty in two years? None. HRT is going to be the same. And setting the marker for changes so early into taking HRT is just plain ridiculous. A lot changes very quickly on testosterone, but at average t levels, my voice is still dropping lower, I'm growing hair in new places, and my face is aligning more and more with my dad's genetics. I started HRT on April Fools, 2022, do the math if you want. You ask anybody who's been on HRT for decades, there's a reason why they stay on it, and it's more than just the reversal of what they got. The changes continue. 3 years in, 5 years in, 10 years in, hormones change your body continuously. There's not some finish line. You can choose to start and stop for any personal reason, but I do believe that spreading the notion that two years in is as good as it gets is down right malicious.

3. It is not normal or okay to have to endure invasive, sexual questions by a doctor or therapist. No. Find an informed consent provider. I know that's harder in red states (I'm in a state where currently not even Planned Parenthood does HRT), but I'm telling you, you don't have to accept being treated like some sort of circus animal. Especially with telehealth becoming more widespread, you have other options. These lines of questioning are outdated and have been outdated in the US for a long time. And honestly, if you do get these nasty questions, it's perfectly okay for you to decline to answer them and report them for misconduct. You being trans/gnc is not some open door for professionals to ask you questions that would constitute sexual harassment in any other context. Questions such as "what kind of underwear do you wear", "how do you masturbate", "what position do you take with sexual partners", are wildly out of line, always.

4. There is more than one kind of testosterone. I don't even know exactly why this misconception floats around the way it does, this is one simple Google search away. People seem to think that testosterone cypionate is the only kind? I'm personally on enanthate. Maybe there's even more kinds, I dunno, but insisting that cypionate is the only option is incorrect. Ask an actual doctor about the differences because I'm no scientist.

5. Any universal statement about HRT should be taken with a huge grain of salt, honestly. Like, what happens to you still partially will be down to genetics. You can be a late bloomer, even on an average dose. You might not get X change, but you'll get other stuff. It all comes down to natural variances in humanity; not every cis man is the same, you shouldn't expect hegemony out of anybody and everybody who takes testosterone either. For a lot of stuff (if possible), you should look at your genetic father and grandfathers on both sides. They're kinda the blueprint.

That's just what comes to mind at the moment. Just... Holy crap, some of y'all spread bad advice and say it with such confidence and authority!

Seeing misinformation on testostrone based HRT being spread around

#pentaphobia #long post //

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storiesbyrhi · 2 years ago

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No, but hear me out on this (gn!reader x) Eddie Munson thought… You’re the same age, but you graduated on time. Two years out in the world and you’re not entirely sure what you’re doing but whatever. What you have learned is that if you let yourself do nothing, you kind of spiral and it’s harder to get started again. Desperately, you don’t want that for Eddie.

Then you overhear Wayne and Eddie talking about post-graduation. “Yeah, yeah, rockstar, but you still need somethin’ to do in the meantime,” Wayne tells him.

You double down, telling him he needs more than just a dead-end job. “Sounds awfully like a backup plan, babe,” Eddie accuses when you start suggesting community college courses. Besides, none of them really fit. Yeah, he’s good with cars but they remind him of his dad. He can open a beer bottle with his teeth, but you’d prefer he didn’t.

AND THEN you find it by accident, in the pages clearly aimed at the teen dream cheerleader types. It’s part of a beauty therapist class, but it’s short and he can go specialised after.

Eddie would make the best massage therapist.

Predictable and a basic ass bitch, Eddie doesn’t even entertain the thought. To get what you want, you flatter him. But, Eddie, you’re already good at it. Imagine all the cute girls you’d be in class with. (“That doesn’t make you jealous?!” Weirdly, it doesn’t.)

Eddie already gives excellent massages. He also cracks Wayne’s spine with terrifying accuracy. He’s a touchy person, and isn't weirded out by body stuff. He’s empathetic and perceptive and soft and you just know he’d be. So. Good. And when he becomes a rockstar, how useful will the skill be?!

“Okay but what else do I have to do? I’m not learning how to do nails,” Eddie says, and it means he’s on his way to being convinced.

You rope Wayne into the plan and by the time final enrolments are due, you’ve fucking done it. Eddie tells you it’s just to make you happy, that he doesn’t actually plan on taking it seriously, but you know, that’s the thing about Eddie… Whatever he is, he wants to be his personal best at it.

He is the best dungeon master. The best guitarist. The best nephew. The best boyfriend. You know, once he gets over the nerves and sees that college isn’t the same as high school, he’ll be his best at this too.

It doesn’t take long for him to fall in love with the course. The other students, all girls, are obsessed with him. He’s not just a guy, but he’s totally the ‘wrong type of guy’ to be doing beauty therapy. They fawn all over him and pout when he (constantly) reminds them he has a partner who he is insanely in love with. Eventually, they get used to him and kind of adopt him as this weird, nerdy, metalhead, who somehow stumbled into their beauty therapy class.

The girls practice on each other (and Eddie, who looks so fucking weird with dead straight hair but absolutely beautiful with mascara on), but not their boyfriends – because their boyfriends say all of this is girly shit. Eddie says that you’re an excellent pretend client, and they all demand to meet you, to practice.

You love them, possibly more than Eddie does. It’s like a gaggle of happy kittens, mewling around, pulling at your hair. They are smarter than anyone gives them credit for, and they tell you all the things Eddie says about you in class.

Eddie gets basic passing grades in all the other stuff – that’s the aim. Everyone knows he could do better; he’s creative, good with his hands, and just kind of gets people. All the qualities needed to excel in the beauty industry. But, it’s the massage therapy component he’s there for. He gets the highest grade possible, even in the theory module.

Eddie wants to get into remedial massage (just not the type for, you know, basketball players and other athletes). He wants to ease peoples’ pain and make them more comfortable in their skin. Eddie likes to make people happy. He feels good about himself when he sees the difference his hands can make.

“Alright, babe,” he finally concedes. “It’s a good backup plan.”

#Mine #Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson Headcanon #Eddie Munson Drabble #I Don't Know What This Is #Rhi Talks #Eddie Munson x You #Eddie Munson/You #Eddie Munson/Reader #Eddie Munson x Reader #Rhi Drabble

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dreamwritesimagines · 3 years ago

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Burn The Witch 23 - Haunted Heart [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support and feedback my loves ! ❤ Here’s the next chapter, I hope you like it as well and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, lovers to enemies, fake dating, mentions of blood, sex, violence, death, manipulation, language, guns, knives.

Summary: Coming home can cause issues.

Series Masterlist

SIX MONTHS LATER

You flipped the knife in your hand as the guy tied to the chair glared at you.

“You know,” you trailed off, “I’ve had a really shitty couple of months, Johnny- can I call you Johnny?”

“No.”

“Rude,” you commented, “Fine. John. I’ve had a really shitty couple of months so you really don’t want to try me right now. Just tell me where I can find your boss.”

“You’ll never find him you stupid bitch.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Since I’m going to kill you in a couple of minutes I feel like I can share some things with you,” you said, “My best friend says I keep everything bottled and I should talk about my feelings.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“See, that’s exactly how I feel!” you pointed at him, “Thank you. I mean, I feel angry at myself. I kind of fucked up with the man I love.”

“Jesus Christ, just kill me already.”

“I’m waiting for a text to do that Johnny,” you pointed out, waving your phone at him. “So, I tricked him and used him and threw him to wolves. And then Accords 2.0 didn’t pass and he has been pardoned once again, and he’s a free man now. I have a strong feeling that he’s not the ‘forgive and forget’ type of guy. You know, assassin to assassin.”

“You’re the chattiest assassin I’ve ever met.”

“Thank you, I’m trying to improve myself,” you said, “I mean what exactly should I do? I don’t even trust my agency at this point, my handler lied to me and I have been at this fucking place for six months now, hunting you down. Well, your boss but…”

“You’ll never find him.”

“We’ll see about that my friend,” you said, “So anyway, like what am I supposed to do? I lost the one guy I actually loved. How do you cope with that? Because drinking doesn’t work, sleeping with others doesn’t work…. Nothing seems to—“ you were cut off when your phone vibrated and you touched the screen to open the text message.

From: Julian

Go for it.

“Wait, no no no, I’ll talk—“

“Kind of too late,” you pointed the gun at him, “Nice to meet you Johnny.”

With that you pulled the trigger, silencer doing its job as there was no loud bang or anything. His body fell back with the impact, and you heaved a sigh.

“Maybe I need a therapist I can’t kill,” you mumbled and walked out of the warehouse to approach the car before opening the door to the passenger seat to get in.

“Is it done?” Julian asked and you nodded, rubbing at your eyes.

“Yep.”

“Are you hungry?”

You made a face, “Just because the General sent you here does not mean we’re going to become buddies.”

“I’m not trying to become buddies with you,” Julian stated, “I just want to eat fries and there’s a two for one deal.”

You eyed him up and down.

“Fine, I could eat fries.” You leaned back in the seat as he started driving, keeping your eyes on the road. Soon enough, you reached the city center and Julian got fries from a food truck, then sat across from you.

“So,” he said, “You do realize this whole thing would’ve been over by now if we actually worked together?”

“I’m not going on the field with you.”

“The General sent me here to help you.”

You dipped the fry into sauce, then popped it into your mouth, “You can help me by pretending you’re not here.”

“Y/N.”

“You know what they say Julian. Fool me once…”

“Don’t tell me you’re still holding that grudge.”

“You mean when you left me behind to die on the last mission we were together?” you asked back, “That grudge?”

“I told you—“

“I’m not going to talk about that with you,” you cut him off, “And I work better alone. Who told you we could waste the guy by the way?”

“The General.”

You grabbed the salt shaker to pour some salt on the fries, causing Julian to make a face.

“Are you kidding me? That was salty enough-“

“Why did he not text me?”

“No idea. Maybe he’s avoiding you because he promised you handler and here you are. Field spy.”

Your jaw clenched.

Or maybe he’s avoiding me because he fucking lied to me.

You had to give it to him, it was the perfect plan. The moment he had suspected you were getting too close to Bucky, he had come up with the one thing he knew that would make you switch sides.

And that-

That was below the belt yes, but that was also masterly.

But at the end of the day, you barely had two people to trust in the entire world, and you seriously doubted you could ever forgive the General for what he had done. You knew he held duty above all, above family and surely above you, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

You shook your head at yourself and grabbed another piece of fry.

“So um…” Julian shifted his weight, “Are you okay?”

You shot him a glare, arching a brow, “Peachy.”

“No I mean… About Barnes.”

“What are you talking about?”

“This whole Accords 2.0 failure, there’s no way we could go after him again.”

“I don’t want to go after him again.”

“You don’t want revenge?”

That made you straighten up your back and you put the fry down, “And why exactly would I want revenge?”

That made Julian fall silent and you nibbled on your lip.

“What exactly did the General tell you before you came here?”

“That there was a job here.”

“Bullshit,” you replied way too quickly, “Did he send you here to be my babysitter? He thinks I’ll go after Barnes myself is that it? That’s why they sent you here months after I left the country but right after Accords 2.0 didn’t pass.”

Julian licked his lips.

“Listen, the agency wants to keep you safe—“ he started but then his phone beeped. He grabbed it to take aa look at the screen, then cussed under his breath.

“What?”

“Check your texts.”

You touched the screen and frowned as your eyes skimmed the text.

From: General

Time to come home.

“Well,” you muttered, your heart dropping to your stomach, “Shit.”

***

Coming back home was harder than ever now. After catching up with Keith and Chloe, you were taken to your new apartment that was given to you by the agency as usual, and for the whole night you couldn’t sleep.

Even if there was no trace of Bucky in your new apartment –in your new life, you still couldn’t shake off this feeling. It was as if the moment you had entered the country, Bucky had entered your life in an instant.

Odds were, you wouldn’t really see him again. After all it was a big city, and Bucky wasn’t exactly the social type.

So your first week back in New York wasn’t exactly terrible. You were still waiting for your orders while getting to know to the city slowly, because after long missions it always took time for you to remember you had a real life there, real memories—

Well, as real as it could be, for a spy.

“Just see it as a vacation,” Chloe had said, “They threw you into another mission as soon as you got out of the country, it’s just a delayed vacation.”

As far as vacations went though, this one just sucked.

Maybe it was because you couldn’t keep away from places you and Bucky had been too, like this coffee place where you had first officially met.

You sipped your coffee, scrolling down on the news website as your eyes skimmed yet another article about Accords and whether you could trust superheroes or not, but you were soon distracted when someone pulled the seat across from you, making you look up from your phone.

And as soon as you did, your heart dropped.

You had to give it to the General, he was manipulative, he was a liar and he had betrayed your trust terribly but the one thing he had done right was training you well. Aside from that one second, you managed to adapt a look of nonchalance on your face, slowly putting your phone down.

“Hello Cap.”

Sam raised his brows and eyed you up and down.

“You’re back?”

You could swear he could hear your heartbeat and you shrugged your shoulders, looking around.

“Yeah,” you said, “Big apple and everything.”

“So much for the small town girl.”

“I have never been a small town girl,” you drawled, “Never been to Oregon either.”

“Yeah, I can tell.”

You turned your coffee cup on the table just so you could do something with your hands.

“Why?” he asked after a beat and you shifted your weight despite your whole training of feeling calm and collected, nervousness hitting you out of nowhere.

“You’re a veteran, Wilson,” you managed to say, “You don’t need me to tell you how the chain of command works. Army doesn’t care how we feel about orders.”

“I’m very familiar with how chain of command works,” he pointed out, “But you’re not a soldier, Y/N. You’re a spy.”

“That makes it even worse,” you stated, “I know it sounds like an excuse, but… you don’t know how my agency works. I don’t get to say no to orders, and I sure as hell don’t get to blow my own cover.”

“But you wanted to, didn’t you?”

Jesus Christ, Wilson was really good at this observation thing.

“Doesn’t matter what I want,” you said, “I’m no use to anyone if I develop a conscience.”

“But you did,” he insisted, “Why else would you come to help us? Why else would you warn him beforehand?”

“He told you about that?”

He shot you a look, “What do you think, Y/N?”

You scoffed a laughter. “I was feeling generous,” you said, “No other reason.”

He kept his gaze on you for a couple of seconds, as if trying to see whether you would cave before he took a deep breath.

“You know he was going to propose, right?”

That-

That was just too much. You could feel your jaw hanging as you stared at him in complete silence, his words echoing in your ears.

“No,” you said after a moment, then shook your head fervently, your nose in the air, “No you’re wrong.”

“I’m not,” Sam said, “Apparently he was looking for this… house painted in white with—a red door or something.”

Don’t cry.

Do not fucking cry.

Spies don’t cry over heartbreak.

You clenched your jaw and blinked back the tears, straightening your back.

“It’s a good thing he didn’t get to, then.”

“Y/N, he loved you.”

“No Sam, he loved someone who doesn’t exist,” you replied, “Sweet small town girl with sundresses and smiles and some house in the suburbs with kids and all that shit. Girls like me don’t get that ending, I have way too much blood on my hands.”

He pressed his lips together and you cleared your throat.

“How much does he hate me?”

“Why do you think he hates you?”

“Assassins aren’t good at forgiving,” you said, “I would know, we don’t have that talent.”

“That’s not a talent, that’s a choice.”

“It really isn’t,” you muttered, “So?”

“Why don’t you ask him?”

You let out a bitter laugh, “Yeah no. Actions have consequences and I’d rather not cross paths with the deadliest assassin in the world after double crossing him.”

“But you want him to forgive you.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Intuition,” he said and pushed his chair back to stand up.

“He didn’t kill your father, Y/N.”

You heaved a sigh.

“I know,” you said, “Trust me, I would’ve walked away so much easier if he had.”

“Enjoy your coffee,” he said and walked out of the coffee house. You threw your head back, closing your eyes.

“Yep. I shouldn’t have come back.”

***

“I never thought I’d say this, but I kind of hate that we’re not living so close anymore,” you pressed the phone between your shoulder and your ear and opened the door to your apartment as Keith chuckled.

“I knew you’d miss me.”

“Shut up.”

“You’re a softie deep inside. Very very deep inside.”

“If you repeat that in front of anyone I swear to God…” you muttered and he groaned.

“Have I told you they’re putting me in the same team as Julian?”

“You guys have a new mission?”

“Not a long one probably.”

“Why the fuck am I—“

“Because you’re on a vacation,” he cut you off, “And also they’re probably going to make you a handler, that’s worth waiting for.”

“That or….”

“We’re not talking about that on the phone,” Keith said quickly, “Amateur.”

“Careful there, I’ll outrank you soon enough,” you said, walking to the bathroom to wash your hands. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Alright, see you later!” he said and hung up. You put your phone into your pocket, then washed your hands and made your way to the kitchen.

It was only when you put the wine bottle back into the fridge that you noticed something was off. Your body moved on its own accord, before you knew it you had already grabbed the knife in your boots and threw it to the figure in the dark corner of the room but he easily caught it, metal hitting what sounded like another kind of metal before he stepped out of the corner. Your breath caught in your throat, and for the first time in your life you froze, all the training leaving your mind.

You were supposed to be looking for a weapon, any kind of weapon but somehow, your body refused to move.

Bucky turned your knife in his hands, his gaze pinning you to your spot before he tilted his head.

“Hi honey,” he said, his voice way too cold. “I’m home.”

Chapter 24

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagines

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bibbykins · 4 years ago

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Insufferable

A/N: The long-awaited flashback is here! It's short, but it is here! I hope this can really show the turning point in Jungkook's and MC's relationship and I would love to hear everyone's thoughts. As usual, tips are not required but greatly appreciate. Hope you all enjoy and have a wonderful day/night!

Note: This is a part (specifically a flashback) of The Household's Bunny series, so I recommend reading at least the Prologue before this one

Word count: 3.6k

Pairing: Soft Yandere! Jungkook x Chubby! Reader

Summary: Roommates are bound to have arguments, especially when one of them is as temperamental as Jungkook, but you didn't expect the first argument to get so unbelievably personal.

Warnings: abandonment issues, mommy issues, allusions to past abuse, family issues, crying, yelling, vomiting, panic attack, exhaustion, some soft yandere thoughts, some possessiveness, jungkook is mean and the MC gets a little mean too

There was something so constricting about memories of a shitty childhood. There were times when looking in the mirror felt like searching for the child in you so you could give her the hug she desperately needed. There were times when waking up felt like a check to make sure you were no longer in the home you had to grow up in far too quickly. However, the comfort of being in a different home only came so far when you didn't have anyone beside you or even emotionally available enough to talk to.

You stayed in bed for hours before it felt like a good idea to move, almost waiting for the mirage of change to fade before it brought you back to the gym with your mom or your uncle's apartment littered with whiskey bottles and leaky tear ducts.

Sometimes putting your best foot forward each day felt so hard with all-consuming loneliness clinging to your heels.

You had started your day going through your memory box. Hindsight said that was a poor idea. The box was a sure way to get you into a bad mood. You liked to think you breezed past all the stages of grief, but just because you accepted reality didn't make it hurt any less. The box was a strong reminder of that much as it sat with a melancholic aura. The creme color faded and the thorned vines connected to roses only added to the malicious undertones of its existence to your mental health. It was full of childhood photos, your birth certificate, school achievements, and the last known address your mom had.

Ah, your mom. What a way to bring clouds to your sunny day. You don’t know why you put yourself through the turmoil of the memory box. Maybe you were hoping it would be easier by now. You were always wrong. Looking through childhood photos and finding no love in the eyes of your mother when she looked at you and watching the love in your uncle’s eyes fade with your mother’s presence. You got to the fated birthday card, thumb rubbing over the defunct address longingly. You held the envelope in your hand, inspecting the birthday card she sent you. Three words in the repetitive note written on the inside caught your eye, and not the ones you so desperately wanted from her.

Feeling a familiar pressure behind your eyes, you tossed the card aside and stood. It was time to eat, go on a walk, do anything other than this. You found your way to the kitchen and came across a silent and solemn Jungkook. His jaw was clenched, but it felt like it always was around you.

Your relationship with Jungkook so far was not very complicated, in the way it was nonexistent. He either didn’t care about talking to you or he actively didn’t want to, you really couldn’t tell. This didn’t stop you from trying, though. Like an idiot.

“I’m making food, did you want any?” You asked from your place seated on the couch, and the silence that was his response for deafening, “Okaaaay.” You sang awkwardly, “I just know that you usually don’t eat throughout the day and-”

“And what do you know?!” He snapped, blinded by his pure and unbridled, but most important unprovoked, rage of you. Your eyes widened and your body jumped. Holy shit, you had never heard him yell like this, “You don’t know anything about me, or in general, so just stop trying so fucking hard!” He was harsh in his tone and it lit your whole nervous system on fire. What the hell did you do to him?

You shook your head, not sure why he was yelling about, but it made your throat feel like it was going to close, “Look, I was just trying to be polite, but you don’t need to talk about me like you understand-”

“Understand?! What’s there to understand?” He challenged, eyes wide like he was expecting you to say something but he continued, “You’re some spoiled girl living here rent-free because your precious dad doesn’t want to take care of you.”

Your heart caught in your throat as it shattered. He was right, your dad didn't want to take care of you, but not in the way he thought. Why was he doing this? Has he genuinely felt this way all along? Was he just holding in his anger until you poked the bear a little too hard? “You don’t need to yell at me.” You stated firmly and it seemed to only make things worse.

“And you don’t need to fucking be here in the first place!” He spoke, temper long lost and you could hear his voice mix in with Jungyoon’s, all he needed was a bottle of whisky and a set of calloused hands, “You didn’t need to fucking live here-”

“You don’t know anything about me.” You spat out. Now, you were losing your temper. You could take a beating, but for only so long, especially as an adult, "And it's not like you're paying rent either, so what do you know about me or my living arrangements?" You hissed and you watched his eyes flare, making you nearly regret your provocation.

“No, but I know how you look naked-”

“Fuck you.” You spit the word out at him, something you haven’t done to another person for a while “Don’t weaponize my work or play a game that you absolutely will lose.” You warned, “I know all about you, and I can use that, because you’ve been a star since you were 15, and that sucks, that makes you mad, doesn’t it?” Your temper effectively lost as you ripped into the rage-filled man before you, “Yet you don’t know anything about me, and that must piss you the fuck off, huh?” You stood from the couch, tears building in your eyes before you could stop it.

“I know enough, spoiled rich girl.” He seethed and you laughed humorlessly at this worldwide pop star calling you spoiled and rich.

“Not only are you wrong, but you’re also a poor listener.” You shot back, “I’ve told you all before Jungyoon isn’t my fucking dad, he’s my uncle.” His mouth opened but you cut him off before he could start, “He can’t stand the sight of me so he travels for work.” Your tears are undoubtedly falling, but you can’t stop, “And you’re talking to me like this because what? You had a scandal or something?” You gave him his chance to talk and boy, he took it.

“Mona told me you know your mom.” His voice was like venom, “So, why the fuck are you here? You have your blood relatives.” He exaggerated the word like it meant anything to you, “Why are you here, disrupting our lives, acting like an innocent orphan girl around actual fucking orphans-”

“I never said I was or acted like an orphan!” You exclaimed incredulously before scoffing, “That’s why you’re mad? Because you never knew your mom and I did? Because I know who my blood family is?” You could laugh at how ridiculous that was, “I know them, so what? Where does that get me?” You looked at him expectantly but he didn’t talk, “I knew my mom, and guess what? She just didn’t fucking want me.” He was silent, but you still couldn’t stop, “I’m sure if your mom could’ve got to know you, she would’ve kept you, because you’re not insufferable to be around, you’re just a fucking asshole.” You wiped at your cheeks furiously, “But me? I had 15 years to prove myself and it still wasn’t enough. I still wasn’t enough. Jungyoon never wanted me either, he got stuck with me and had to cope.” Your voice began to break and you had to take a breath, “I was the insufferable one, so-” You stopped, finally as you regained your sense of reality and watched Jungkook who had an unreadable expression and the realization of the word vomit you spilled out to him hit you like a train as you exhaled quickly, rage in your voice quickly replaced with soft melancholy “I am the insufferable one here, so there.” You shrugged, face a wet mess, “Hope that brings you peace.” Your stomach was churning as you turned on your heel, unable to hold in your sobs. You couldn’t bear the awkwardness of waiting for the elevator so you opted to take the stairs.

You sobbed louder as the door slammed shut behind you, but you didn’t want to linger so you bolted down the stairs, the bile in your stomach signaling that you needed to find the nearest trashcan and quickly. You made it to the ground floor and spilled your guts into the small trashcan. Yelling always made you unbelievably ill, whether it was getting yelled at or yelling, the sickness it made you feel overflowed. The yelling only reminded you of-

You vomited again at the mere thought. You cried harder when you finally finished, breathing becoming staggered as you began to panic.

Fuck, they’re gonna kick you out, and then you’ll be alone again. You lost your temper, people don’t like other people who lose their temper. Why couldn’t you just mind your own fucking business and leave him be? You’re stupid. Why do you think you’ve been alone all your life? It’s because people don’t want to be near you. You’re-

“Insufferable.” You mumbled, numb, even if for only a moment.

Sure, Jungkook provoked you, but you knew better. You didn't go to therapist after therapist throughout your adolescence for nothing. You felt as if you set yourself back eons after that outburst. He didn't need to know all that about you, ever. He probably didn't even care to know, and you said it anyway, like you were gunning for gold in the trauma Olympics. You didn't want to minimize his struggles, you just wanted him to shut up and stop yelling at you. You let your eyes flutter closed as you cried. How can you complain about being alone when you're like this?

You don’t know how long you stayed there, sitting next to a trash can full of your vomit as you wallowed in your self-hatred. The all-consuming loneliness the boisterous house subdued returning with full force. Jungkook was right. You didn’t need to be here. You were only disrupting their routine.

You blew out a sigh as you staggered to the elevator, fully set on going up to your room and crying yourself to sleep after you clean up. You brought the trashcan with you, not having the heart to just leave your puke down there. You thanked your lucky stars when Jungkook was no longer on the second floor as you went to the kitchen and rinsed your mouth before going to take out the trash and take out your burnt oven pizza. Finally, you were headed back up to your floor. You watched the numbers tick by with tired eyes. You glared at the empty trashcan, electing to take it with you instead of making the trip back down to put it back. Surely, they wouldn’t need it for a few hours.

The elevator dinged as you grabbed the black plastic bin and then you were met with Jungkook. Relief flashed across his face before irritation settled on it, “Where the fuck were you?!” He asked hurriedly as you trudged past him, too exhausted to fight. You were running on autopilot the whole way up here, and you couldn’t bear another spat.

“I was on the first floor.” Your voice was low, trying to communicate you were done arguing as you lifted the bin as proof. You then set it down and went to your bathroom and began brushing your teeth.

He scoffed, “You were on the first floor for 30 minutes?” He asked as if he caught you in a lie but you nodded as you rinsed your mouth.

You were down there for thirty minutes? No wonder you felt so tired.

“Yep.” You popped the last letter before correcting yourself, “Well, I spent like 10 minutes cleaning up that bin, so not exactly.”

“Why?” He asked as if you were being ridiculous, as if he wasn’t the one on your floor demanding answers.

“I vomited.” You spoke simply and before he could ask, “Yelling makes me puke.” You were so blase about it he sighed in frustration.

You walked to your room and froze when you saw your memory box strewn about, and it was like a dam broke all over again. You looked at the photos, at the eager little girl looking for love in places she would never find it.

Old habits die hard.

Before you could even stop yourself, you sunk to your knees in garbled sobs and broken cries, “Hey, hey, wait.” Jungkook’s shaky voice did nothing to bring you back to reality as you cried. His hands placed themselves on your shoulder, making you flinch violently, much to his horror.

Fuck, he didn’t know how to do this. He didn’t know why you were crying, but he knew it was his fault, at least in part. Even if at this moment it wasn’t, his outburst surely didn’t help. Fuck, he’s so dumb. Fuck, he shouldn’t have talked to Mona just moments before seeing you.

The envy of even seeing your own mother’s face ate up at him and he took it out on you. Not to mention that he made you vomit from the yelling. He suddenly felt more like an arrogant asshole than he did before as his hands now hovered over your form and he took a moment to look at your room.

Scattered on the floor were childhood photos and ribbons from competitions. Things Mona kept in her own house, having a whole wall filled with every one of their achievements. Even Jin had a photo album of their things. And you, you kept all these for yourself. You were the only one who cared enough to save these things and he wondered how much you threw away to maintain space in the small empty box. Fuck, he didn’t know how to do this.

You sighed shakily, “You can just go.” You cried, “You don’t have to be here.” You don’t know what he could possibly gain from watching you cry.

“I know.” His voice was calm, even, “Can I help you up?” He asked and you wanted to look up at him in confusion but you didn't want him to see your tears.

You both had just ripped into each other, and here he was, wanting to help you. Why would he do that? Why would he stay when he doesn't have to? Why would he want to help you up after a fight?

Too tired to even think about questioning him and no longer angry at him, you simply scoffed, “Can you?” You sighed, not having the energy to stroke his ego and stand up without his help.

You never let people bear your dead weight, not wanting the awkwardness if they couldn’t carry you, but right now, you just wanted to lay down.

He snorted lightly, happy to hear anything other than a sob for you, “Don’t worry about me, you just cry and mind your business.” He spoke lightly, and the comment made you fight a smile. Then, he lifted you with so much ease, you figured he was trying to show off as he placed you on the bed. He looked at you after he sat on the floor before his eyes caught onto the gold foil of a 16th birthday card. You were wiping at your face as he read the card against his better judgment.

I know you must be confused, and I can’t help that. I wish I could pretend to be a mom, but I can’t. I can’t be your mom, and I never should have tried. It would be best if we forgot each other. I just can’t keep pretending, and I know you can see it, even if you don’t want to.

I’m so tired.

-Mom

Now, he felt even more like an asshole. He also felt a little bit angry that your mother could just leave you behind without so much as saying sorry. She wrote like she was a teenager and you were her mother. She obviously didn't put much thought into the seemingly last message to her daughter and it made his heartbreak for you, “That was the last I heard of her.” You snapped him from his thoughts and he looked at your puffy face, “She had left months earlier, and then I got that, but she moved before I could try to see her one more time.” There was a distant ache in your words as you looked at Jungkook sitting amongst your memories.

“Is she… still alive?” He asked, not sure why he felt the need to know.

“Not sure, but it doesn’t make much of a difference, I guess.” You blew out a sigh, before looking at your papers and folded posterboards, “I was cleaning out my memory box, and I’m not sure why I do it when I know it just upsets me.” You could still feel tears leaking from your eyes as Jungkook picked up a photo of you on your 14th birthday, posed between Jungyoon and your mom. You had a bright smile on your face and they looked at the camera with a tight expression, “You can really see how much they didn’t want to be there, but that's the happiest they look in all of the photos.”

He wanted to say you were wrong, but he could see it. He could see the happy little girl trying to make up for the unhappy adults around her. He knew he should’ve asked Mona why Jungyoon didn’t try to call or visit or why she was so eager to take you in if you knew your family. He should’ve just known better. Yeah, he understood how it felt to be alone growing up, they all did, but by the time they were all 17 they had a home that wanted them. You were going to graduate from college soon and you still felt unwanted.

No thanks to him.

“I’m sorry.” He blurted and you looked at him with wide eyes, “For being an asshole, I’m sorry- and for making you cry. I just…” He shrugged, “You’re right. I was jealous you knew your mom and I already was suspicious of you and I- I’m dumb, and I’m sorry.” He looked at you, eyes a bit glossy and you wondered when was the last time someone apologized for making you cry.

“It’s okay.” You smiled weakly, “You are dumb, but that’s okay.” You chuckled when he frowned, but eventually, he also broke into a short laugh, “I think… we’ve felt a lot of the same things in different ways, so I can’t blame you.” He wondered how you could be so forgiving, and he was scared of how many times that has gotten you hurt, “I like living here and I like all of you, so I hope I can get you all to like me too, even if just a little.”

“Don’t accept less than you deserve.” He spoke firmly before he started picking up your memory box, putting things neatly back in.

“Wh-”

He waved his hands nonchalantly, “You, sleep, I’ll clean this up and order some food.” He didn’t look at you as he said this, mostly to hide his blush, "If...If you want, I can give this to Jin. He has a whole place he keeps our stuff like this… he's really sentimental." He stumbled, still refusing to look at you.

However, he jumped when he heard you hiccup a cry. Ready to apologize, Jungkook was just about to turn to look at you until he heard you speak, "That… That sounds very sweet of you to do." You wiped a sentimental tear away as the blushing boy remained frozen.

"It's Jin's hobby, not mine." He deflected before waving his hand at you, "Sleep, I said." He frantically demanded.

You could see his ears getting red and you smiled, “Yes, sir.” You mocked in your work voice and made him freeze for a moment as you erupted into giggles while he whined, “Okay, okay, I’ll sleep.”

Eventually, you surrendered to your exhaustion as he delicately put away your papers and photos. He hummed lightly, smiling as he came across your debate team awards. No wonder he lost the fight before it even started. He turned around after lifting the box and sighed almost dreamily as he watched your sleeping face. You were beautiful, delicate, and puffy from the tears. He had the urge to keep apologizing for being such an asshole, but after looking through your achievements and your photos, he resolved to just keep proving it.

He wouldn’t let you get hurt again. Not by him or anyone, especially your mother, even Jungyoon was on thin ice.

His blood boiled at the thought of your mother for a reason he couldn’t understand. His hand extended shakily as he pulled the covers up to your shoulder and you hummed contently, making his heart melt a bit at the little smile you had. He wouldn’t fuck up with you again, not like this. He would be nice, at least a little, and first and foremost, he would order food you liked.

He froze.

Fuck, what food do you like?

He relaxed. Well, he could just ask the guys.

Fuck, they’re gonna ask questions.

Fuck, they’re gonna kill him when they found out he made you cry.

He looked back at your sleeping form, not having the heart to wake you up. He sighed, looks like he’ll just have to bite the bullet. He dreaded each moment as he quickly made an untitled group chat with the guys since you were added to their original one. He could only hope Taehyung wouldn’t change the group chat name to something stupid.

Tip Jar

#yandere bts #soft yandere bts #bts fanfic #bts series #yandere jungkook #bts angst #bts fluff #poly bts au

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d-parade · 11 months ago

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thanks for the questions. i understand where you’re coming from. and i’ll try my best to answer.

there’s actually no way of knowing how it “feels” to be the opposite sex until you work towards it. but you do know there’s something horribly wrong.

i’ll try an analogy.

imagine you’re wearing a shoe. it’s wayyy too tight and painful to wear. you know how it feels to wear that shoe. it’s just… wrong. other people definitely don’t feel this much pain when wearing it. other people don’t want to slice of their feet because of it.

now, there’s only one other shoe available. your pain attracts you to this shoe. so you try it out for a little and damn, for the first time in your life, this feels comfortable. as it should.

so i guess “not feeling female” is the main part, and how you know you “feel like a man” is basically the relief.

normal woman or other people won’t be able to “feel” this, because comfort or slight discomfort is all they ever knew, and gotten used to it over time. but there’s some things you can’t get used to, and only gets worse.

and i know other woman don’t feel the same as me. as a child, have you ever wanted to kill yourself even though you led a perfectly healthy life? did you ever have a visceral fear of cameras? have you ever wanted to slice of your own body parts? crush your bones? even now, i am physically unable to talk about my experiences with puberty without wanting to throw up and throw myself off a building.

yet, it’s different than finding myself ugly. i actually know i’m average looking, or above average. i don’t want my facial features to change. yet something is so god damn wrong.

“loving and accepting the way i was born” is seriously a path i would prefer, as it isn’t as painful as what i’m going through right now. but it doesn’t work.

going back to the shoe analogy. some people might be displeased with their ugly ass shoes. but it helps them walk, and so they learn to be grateful because of it.

but how can you learn to love a shoe that makes you physically unable to walk? that caused you suffering almost every day? the same way you can never accept a murderer, i cannot accept the thing that has been pulling my life down every since i was born.

i tried going to a therapist before i knew i was a man and even they didn’t understand why i felt that way. told me i was the first they encountered who was “like this”, said they couldn’t help me.

so i’m stuck between: living in extreme misery while constantly trying to accept myself to no avail, killing myself, or being male. i would choose the option that makes me happiest. which is the last option, even though it’s so much harder.

well tried my best, hope this clarifies a bit. feel free to ask more questions.

gender is not self expression

gender is not an aesthetic

i’m not a man because it’s my “self expression”. i’m a man because i feel a disconnect from my sex that isn’t rooted in low self esteem.

bigender? you feel like a man and a woman? maybe that’s just attachment to attributes you connect to being a man/ woman in today’s society.

agender? maybe that’s because you’re unsatisfied with the societal attributes attached to being a man/woman.

genderfluid? you have (gasp) fluctuating day to day feelings???????

i’m up for self expression and choosing to be/ look how you want to. but my god that doesn’t make you trans. i mean like 99% of the time it’s literally temporary because your perception, interaction and opinion towards society changes over time.

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daloy-politsey · 3 years ago

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Leelah Alcorn was a transgender girl who committed suicide on December 28, 2014 as a result of her parents refusing to accept her. This is a suicide note she wrote on Tumblr. It reads:

SUICIDE NOTE

If you are reading this, it means that I have committed suicide and obviously failed to delete this from my queue.

Please don’t be sad, it’s for the better. The life I would’ve lived isn’t worth living in... because I’m transgender. I could go into detail explaining why I feel that way, but this note is probably going to be lengthy enough as it is. To put it simply, I feel like a girl trapped in a boy’s body, and I’ve felt that way ever since I was 4. I never knew there was a word for that feeling, nor was it possible for a boy to become a girl, so I never told anyone and I just continues to do traditional “boyish” things to try to fit in.

When I was 14, I learned what transgender meant and cried of happiness. After 10 years of confusion I finally understood who I was. I immediately told my mom, and she reacted extremely negatively, telling me that it was a phase, that I would never truly be a girl, that God doesn’t make mistakes, that I am wrong. If you are reading this, parents, please don’t tell this to your kids. Even if you are Christian or are against transgender people don��t ever say that to someone, especially your kid. That won’t do anything but make them hate them self. That’s exactly what it did to me.

My mom started taking me to a therapist, but would only take me to christian therapists, (who were all very biased) so I never actually got the therapy I needed to cure me of my depression. I only got more christians telling me that I was selfish and wrong and that I should look to God for help.

When I was 16 I realized that my parents would never come around, and that I would have to wait until I was 18 to start any sort of transitioning treatment, which absolutely broke my heart. The longer you wait, the harder it is to transition. I felt hopeless, that I was just going to look like a man in drag for the rest of my life. On my 16th birthday, when I didn’t receive consent from my parents to start transitioning, I cried myself to sleep.

I formed a sort of “fuck you” attitude towards my parents and came out as gay at school, thinking that maybe if I eased into coming out as trans it would be less of a shock. Although the reaction from my friends was positive, my parents were pissed. They felt like I was attacking their image, and that I was an embarrassment to them. They wanted me to be their perfect little straight christian boy, and that’s obviously not what I wanted.

So they took me out of public school, took away my laptop and phone, and forbid me of getting on any sort of social media, completely isolating me from my friends. This was probably the part of my life when I was the most depressed, and I’m surprised I didn’t kill myself. I was completely alone for 5 months. No friends, no support, no love. Just my parent’s disappointment and the cruelty of loneliness.

At the end of the school year, my parents finally came around and gave me my phone and let me back on social media. I was excited, I finally had my friends back. They were extremely excited to see me and talk to me, but only at first. Eventually they realized they didn’t actually give a shit about me, and I felt even lonelier than I did before. The only friends I thought I had only liked me because they saw me five times a week.

After a summer of having almost no friends plus the weight of having to think about college, save money for moving out, keep my grades up, go to church each week and feel like shit because everyone there is against everything I live for, I have decided I’ve had enough. I’m never going to transition successfully, even when I move out. I’m never going to be happy with the way I look or sound. I’m never going to find a man who loves me. I’m never going to be happy. Either I live the rest of my life as a lonely man who wishes he were a woman or I live my life as a lonelier woman who hates herself. There’s no winning. There’s no way out. I’m sad enough already, I don’t need my life to get any worse. People say “it gets better” but that isn’t true in my case. It gets worse. Each day I get worse.

That’s the gist of it, that’s why I feel like killing myself. Sorry if that’s not a good enough reason for you, it’s good enough for me. As for my will, I want 100% of the things that I legally own to be sold and the money (plus the money in the bank) to be given to trans civil rights movements and support groups, I don’t give a shit which one. The only way I will rest in peace is if one day transgender people aren’t treated the way I was, they’re treated like humans, with valid feelings and human rights. Gender needs to be taught about in schools, the earlier the better. My death needs to mean something. My death needs to be counted in the number of transgender people who commit suicide this year. I wasnt someone to look at that number and say “that’s fucked up” and fix it. Fix society. Please

Goodbye,

(Leelah) Josh Alcorn

In the screenshot, there are 202,802 notes and the tags trans, transgender, suicide, suicide note, mmtf, mtf trans, genderqueer, gender equality, trans teen, trans teens, transgender teen, lgbt, lgbtq, lgbt rights, non-gender binary, genderfluid, and trans rights.

#i tried looking for this to reblog but only found it on a true crime blog so i decided to just post it myself #leelah alcorn #transmisogyny #suicide mention #death mention #swears cw

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lilsocksiswriting · 3 years ago

Text

Osamu(s)

Fandom: Haikyuu

Paring: Osamu X fem!reader X Future!Osamu

Summary: On a stormy night, your boyfriend shows up at your door with his future self in two.

Warnings: No beta, Post time skip spoilers, minors DNI

Tags: dirty talk, masturbation, thigh fucking, voyeurism, overstimulation, crempires

Word Count: 4366

There was just something about tonight that made things feel amiss. it was smack dab in the middle of midterms week. Everyone was either studying, out at the bats drinking aways their dread, or like you trying to finish midterm papers. This makes the apartment complex you lived in quieter than usual which you don't mind at all. You can hear the heavy downpour of rain more clearly because of it too. You look up from the screen of your laptop to outside the window and at the street lamps below. the rain dampens the street lights, limiting their reach, and making them seem more like fairly glowing orbs. They add to the mysterious ambiance of the night.

A ding draws your attention back to your phone's screen has lit up with a banner of Osamu's name surrounded by grey hearts and stars

Osamu: babe?

Y/N: Hey bubs

Osamu: something weird happened

Y/N: Are you ok?

Osamu: yea. I was just getting in my head again.

Y/N: Oh no

Osamu: I know I'm sorry.

Y/N: you don't have to apologize. I'm not mad, it happens. I'm happy that you aren't keeping it to yourself this time.

Osamu: right, well as I was thinking was when the weird thing happened.

Y/N: and what is this weird thing?

Osamu: we're coming over

Y/N: what?

Osamu: is are coming over?

Y/N: what? Osamu what are you trying to say?

since Osamu only lived a floor above you in a studio apartment much like your own it didn't take long after his text for you to hear a knock on your door. When you open it you realize that 'is' wasn't a typo at all. 'is' was Osamu's attempt at making a plural of I.

Standing in the doorway was the Osamu who knew and loved. Board look slumped shoulders with hands stuffed in the pocket of the sweats he taken to wearing more often. Beside him was another man, more specifically another him. This Osamu was smirking in the same way Osamu still did from time to time, smug and relaxed, and stood a little straighter. Maybe even a little taller? He dressed in black sort and jeans, like a uniform of some sort, that is close not his broads body.

"Well, aren't ya goin' to invite in sweetheart?" the other Osamu asks and you move aside.

When the door clicks shut it also clicks for you who exactly this Osamu is. who he has to be. You follow behind the present Osama down the small hallway that opens up into the rest of your apartment. Older Osamu makes a b-line to your window to close the blinds while the other plops himself down on your couch making himself right at home leaning back and spreading his legs. if this was any other situation would have taken that as an open invitation to crawl onto his lap. Taking notice of the you-sized spot between his legs you also notice how the pair of sweats he wore were looking quite dingy. You wonder if he was heading into one of those weeks again where he barely slept, barely took care of himself, and stressed ate all your snacks. mid-terms week was definitely the kind of week where it would happen.

You give him that soft look but don't ask if he's been taking care of himself instead you ask, "He's for the future isn't he?"

Osamu nods seeming to not catch on the look or choosing to ignore it. "That's the weird thing that happened. He just sort of appeared."

The amazement that time travel existed and proof of that had now walk back over to stand in front of you right in front of you didn't cross your mind at first. What was crossing your mind was a series of questions. It takes the rest of your body a minute to catch up to these racing questions and actually speak one out.

"We're still together right?"

Older Osamu's laugh answers your question but he tells you anyway," I wouldn't be here if we weren't."

"And how exactly do we get you to from here back to where you belong, in the future."

"Tryin' to get rid of me already?" he cocks his head to the side teasing you. You look between present and future Osamu and find that neither seems bothered by the timeline consequences the older being here has. but hey guess that's anxiety for you.

"No, but why are you here? How are you here? How do we get you back so we don't fuck up the timeline?" you blurt out one question after the other to older Osamu and he just stands in front of you, thick arms crossing over his broad chest letting you get them all out.

The fact that neither of them seems to fully grasp the gravity of the situation infuriates you. "How are you two not freaking out about this?"

"Because one way or another he goes back after what happens tonight.”

you give the present version a questionable look. They definitely knew something that you didn't and weren't talking about it yet. "you two know something. What happens tonight?"

Instead of the present Osamu explaining, his older self tells you. "I don't really know how I get back but I do because he's still here," he points to himself," and I'm still for the future, a better version because of what happens tonight."

You don't miss the way his voice drops or how you notice him towering over you. You just try to focus on what they aren't telling you.

"What happens tonight?" you repeat the question.

"I show my past self how much better he can be," The older Osamu explains but it still leaves out the answer you looking for.

The order Osamu goes on," You know I was at a pretty low point at this time in my life. I didn't think that I was ever goin' to amount to anything. I would always be a stick in my twin's shadow, I'd be the less attractive twin, I'd always be dealin' with some bad patch of acne or my clothes were never goin' fit right, I'd always be sad like this. I never deserve you-"

"Ok," you cut him off. "Ok, I get it."

"He's not wrong ya know," you look over at the couch.

"I know... it's just hard to hear," you admit feeling guilty and ashamed for doing so. You want to be here for Osamu. You knew what he was going through since his twin got scouted for a pro team and you knew that you \ but that didn't make hearing how Osamu thought about himself anymore easy to hear. You were human. You loved Osamu. And sometimes it was hard to hear about problems of his that you didn't know how to make better.

"But that changes tonight. After tonight I get help, start seein’ a therapist. I start plannin’ for a future instead of being convinced that I don’t have one. I start to rub the amazing relationship I have with you in my twin's face. I start to learn to stop hatin’ my body for changing," The order supplies.

you frown. "But what happens tonight?"

Older Osamu leaned in closer to you, very close. So close that you can feel his breath rolls off your skin as he tells you, "Tonight I show my younger self how good he's gonna be able to fuck you in the near future ."

Well, damn. You weren’t expecting that. Mabey something a little closer to a heartfelt talk that would help Osamu out at this point of his life. This wasn’t to say that you were opposed to the idea. In fact, taking another look at the older version of your boyfriend, you were very ok with letting him rail you while the other watched. But someone about it felt wrong? More specifically it made you feel like it was something wrong.

The way the idea settles in your gut makes you turn your head slightly to look at the present version who’s still seated at the couch but sitting up a little straighter now. Anxiously and hopefully waiting for your answer.

“Are you sure?”

He nods then adds, “But only if you want to.”

You very much want to, it’s just….” Would this even count as cheating or like being with someone else?”

The older Osamu chuckles putting his knuckles under your chin and guiding your face back to his. “Darlin’ we’re the same person.”

That seems to settle your nerves and you nod. “Ok then. Show us.”

A smile breaks out across the order’s face. His other arms loops around your waist pulling you fully into his broad frame. “That’s my girl.”

The older Osamu tastes just the same as the present. The only difference is that he’s a lot less shy about using his tongue. Hell, he’s a lot less shy about using his whole body, and you honestly love it. The more that older Osamu explores your mouth with his, the harder you can feel him getting in his pants. Pulled so tightly against him means that you can feel every little twitch his cock gives in reaction to every little noise you’re able to make. Eventually, you two have to pull away for air. Dizzy with lips swollen you rest your cheek against the order’s heaving chest and look at to the younger who is staring at you like he’s start stuck. It’s cute.

“See,” The older tells his younger self. “Look how dizzy you can make her when you aren’t second-guessing everything.”

If the older was going to be bold, then so were you. You smooth a hand down his stomach, past his belt buckle and grip and the budge below it. All the while not taking your eyes off the present version of your boyfriend. This earns you a sharp intake of air from the older that comes out on a pleased exhale. “And don’t think for a minute that she doesn’t want all of you. Right darlin'? Look at you already tryin' to get at my cock.”

“You’re already hard.”

He nods. “And all for you. All’ve ya done is be your pretty little self and I’m already achin’ for ya.”

You squeeze your thighs together. You love to be dotted on by Osamu. You had realized early on that you definitely had a praise kink but only when it came to Osamu. With gentle hands, Osamu turns to the body so that you’re facing the present version. A firm hold on your arms holds you in place as a hot mouth leaves sloppy kisses along your neck in just the right spots to keep you feeling light-headed. Those hands eventually move. Snaking up too to grope at your titis through your sweatshirt. You go to squeeze your thighs together again, but suddenly there’s one less hand on your breast and a hand forcing your thighs apart.

“When she does that, squeeze her thighs together like that, it means she’s getting riled up,” The older explains while pressing fingers into your clothes clit and rubbing at it causing you to squirm slightly. “Why don’t we show him how wet you are darlin’?”

You simply nod because you want to see too. You can feel how arousal that's collected between your folds, but you've never gotten wet so fast before. Osamu gives you a little kiss on the cheek and helps you slip out of your legging and underwear leaving you bare from the waist down. You shiver both from your heated skin being exposed to the cool air of your apartment and the way that Osamu is staring from his spot on the couch/ The intensity of that look never fails to go straight to your groin.

One of older Osamu's hands dips between your spread thigh pushing through your folds. His fingers are a little rougher and that small difference feels so good. His fingers rub back and forth a few times, collecting your wetness as they go, before pulling them easy much to your dismay.

The older Osamu holds them up so that both you and his present self can see the strings of slick at connecting one digital to the other.

"Fuck," You both breathe.

Beyond the fingers, you can see Osamu relaxing into the couch and palming the crotch of his sweats

"'Samu, "You wine at both the older for him to touch you more and at the sight of the present touching himself.

"Aww, you want me to keep touching you down there darlin'?" the older coos into your year.

"Please," You ask nicely not feeling the least bit ashamed since both you and the present Osamu seem to want exactly that.

"Don't you worry your pretty little head darlin'," you feel warm hands slip up your sweatshirt. "I'm gonna touch you plenty. I can barely keep my hands off ya as is, but I wanna give my younger self a good view of how we make your body feel. So come off with the sweatshirt."

You do exactly as you told and strip out of your sweatshirt. You'd do anything to feel his fingers again. Osamu goes back to massaging your tits again, this time playfully rubbing your perk nippled between his fingers. Either Osamu wasn't telling you now you or at some point in the future, he loves playing with your boobs. You're only complaint was that he wasn't paying enough attention to the rest, more needing, parts of your body.

"Osamu, please~" you beg.

"See how easy it is to get her so needy?'

"Yea," the present Osamu nods his head stuffing a hand down his sweats.

"She just loves our touch that much. Right now if you were to ask she'd beg you to touch her, to fuck her, to do anything really, as long as it's us doing it," The older Osamu nudged your cheek with his nose making you crane your neck so that your lips are almost touching. " She's such a slutty little girl, " he says lower, "but she's our slutty girl, and we fucking love it."

Osamu's mouth is on yours again and there are fingers that aren't just rubbing your clit but now slipping inside. You moan into the older's mouth and buck your hips grinding against his hands. You hear a low curse from the present Osamu.

"Well, shit you look like your dick's about to explode there. You're about to cum but you're trying to make it last because you can't last very long after the first time can't ya."

A frustrated groan escapes the present Osamu's lips. He has the waistband of his sweats pulled down past his hips and his hand gripping the base of his flushed cock. He looked just about as lost in pleasure as you but had retained some sense of himself to pay attention so that he can learn how to make you feel this good in the future.

"Don't fret though because you're going to be able to go for rounds. Y/N can barely keep up in the future. I usually leave her so fucked out by the end of the night, but I make sure to take good care of her. Treat her to a nice bath and some home-cooked food in bed after I wreck her cunt. "

"O-Osamu," the name tumbles out as your breath quickens, everything that hen man was doing and describing to his younger self was so fucking hot and heavenly sounding.

"Holy fuck."

"Right? See what you can do when you start the impossible is possible? " he then addresses you. "You want more darlin'?"

"Please~"

"holy fuck Y/N," the present Osamu moans slowly stroking himself, "you sound so fucking good right now darlin'."

"That's what we love to hear," the older Osamu purrs. His hands leave your body but only for a moment to he unbuckles his pants and pull his dick free giving it a few pumps. Then they're on you again, grabbing your hips and lifting you up just enough that you stand on your tippy-toes.

"Now I'm gonna need to you stay just like that and keep squeezing those pretty thighs together. Can ya do that for us, darlin'?"

when he uses that nickname in that pitch of voice? It was a power that the present Osamu didn't realize he had yet, and god helps you the day that he did because you would do just about anything when he say's 'darlin' like that. you nod your yea with a little 'yes' and you feel the older's hands move to a firm grip on your elbows.

When he roughly pulls you into him your eyes go wild. This was new. The older Osamu's thick cock slips in and out from between your thigh, each thrust making your whole body jolt. Each time his hips meet the blunt head of his dick slips slang you slit and bumps against your slit making you see stars. All the while the present Osamu watches completely enthralled by the sight of his older self fucking your thighs. The way you titis are bouncing with every thrust, the way his older self is handing you like some treasured fuck toy, and those breathless moans you don't hold back, that's what he wants. He wants to be able to fuck you like that. He wants to be the only one to be able to make you feel the way you feeling right now. He just never thought he could until now.

"Does it feel good darlin'? The tip of my fat cock rubbing you like this?"

"y-yes!", answer as he paces quickens.

"Are you gonna cum like this? From me fucking your thighs while my younger self watches?"

you nod vigorously, the feeling of orgasm quickly building in your gut each time the tip of his dick meets your clit. You squeeze your thighs tighter your head lulls back when it finally washes over you.

"Shit," Osamu curses in your ear as his hips sputter and he spills his cum between your thighs, "Shit, that's it darlin' keep squeezin' round me like that. Don't she look so cute?"

"You haven't even fucked her yet," the present Osamu comments making the older chuckles

"You ready to watch that?”

"God yes," Osamu breaths out looking so desperate to watch you get railed by his older self that it's downright adorable.

The older Osamu chuckles. He handles you like you don't weigh a thing to him lifting you up and laying you back down at the end of the bed. The way the couch is facing the present Osamu has a perfect side view of the two of you. You set yourself up on your elbows when the older steps away. He doesn't bother stripping, he simply pulled his tee-shirt over his head and pushed his jeans down a little more.

"Oh god," You moan because holy fuck you have never wanted Osamu as bad as you wanted him now. He stands to at the foot of your had hands on his hips and a lopsided smirk letting you admire him in what wasn't even his full glory.

This thing that really gets you is how much Osamu hasn't, or in this cane won't change. His body was mostly the same. There's some muscles mass you could see in his forearm, chest, and the way that he manhandles you. His tits are still nice and supple, just begging for you to leave hickies on, and a faint patch of hair grows along his sternum. Your eyes roam across his soft tummy that has the faintest outline of abs the closer you look. Following his thicker trail of hair below his navel leads to his erect cock standing tall and as proud as he is that’s glistening under the soft light in your wetness.

"See," he glances at his younger self and his voice softens. "She really does love us and our body. Every last bit of it. Even on the day when we don't."

He then turns back to you," Now are you ready for me to fuck you darlin'?"

"Yes," you answer and spread your legs that are dangling off the foot of your bed a little wider to accommodate him.

When Osamu pushes into you there's a familiar burn of yourself stretching around him. The older takes things slowly so that you feel every inch of him entering you. Once he's bottom out in you Osamu takes your legs and wraps that around his waist.

Osamu's pace starts out slow and deep but doesn't stay this way for long. Soon your small apparent is filled with all sorts of lewd sounds. The loudest of which was the dull slaps of skin and squelching every time he thrusts back into you. They barely cover your breathless moans and high pitch whimpers. Both Osamu's are also being quite vocal. The present Osamu is cursing again as he bucks his hip and cums into his closed fist. Meanwhile, the older Osamu is grunting, jacking hammering into you. You can barely keep up with the brutal pace the older's set. All that you can really do at this point is grab and claw at his shoulders for something to hang on to for dear life too.

"Oh fuck. Oh, fuck Dalrin' you're gonna make me cum. Yer just suckin' me in a like that- shit! cummin'! I'm cummin' Y/N," Osamu moans burying himself as deep as he can inside you and flooding you with his release.

Feeling yourself being filled with Osamu's cum pushes you over the edge. Your walls flutters around his dick and thighs shake around his hips as you cum.

The order barely gives you time to catch your breath before he's calling for his younger self to switch places with him. The present Osamu is on his feet in an instant stripping out of his clothes on his way to you. The other Osamu moves aside, setting down on the couch and relaxing his arms across the back of it. He doesn't even bother to tuck his flaccid cock back into his jeans or fix his shirt. He smiles at the scene before him.

Osamu is hunched over you so you can wrap your arms around his neck and pull him that much closer to you as he fucks you. Like his older self, the pace is fast and deep. You can try and buck your hips but they aren't in sync with his thrusts. The mess, the disorganized movements of the two of you make things hotter, more intense. You're cumming again with a pleasured sob and Osamu continues to fuck you through it reaching his own high.

And he doesn't stop. Your present boyfriend keeps his feet planted on the floor and keeps fucking into even when his cum is being to seep out of your stuffed hole. He pulls away just enough so that he can see your flushed and sweaty face that he cups in his hands.

"One more yea"

your jaw trembles and the only words you can get out are incoherent so you nod.

A tired smile breaks out across his face. "That's my girl. Gonna make you f-feel so good. I'm going to make sure you always feel this good. gonna stuff you so full of my cum~"

You cum right along with Osamu, letting out a silent scream to fucked to do anything else. You can feel his whole body shudder as he pulls out of you. You immediately feel a mixture of you, him, and maybe even his future self leak out of your spent cunt. You feel him move you up the bed so that you can catch your breath while fully laying in your own bed with Osamu cuddled up next to you.

"Darlin'."

"Hmmm?" you hum eyes still closed.

"He's gone."

You peak an eye open and sure enough, the couch was empty now. You were too tired to really think about where the older Osamsua had gone but somewhere in your mind was the assumption that he went back to his own timeline in the future.

"Too tired and icky to care."

You feel fingers thread themself through you and massage your scalp. you lean into Osamu's touch and you're fully content to just lay here in the mess the two of them had made of you for the rest of the night.

"How about I run you a nice bath and we get cleaned up hmm? We can go back to my place and worry about your sheets tomorrow. "

"Will you cook for me?"

"Whatever ya want darlin'."

A few years down the road Osamu bursts into the apartment that you two share scaring the living hell out of you. "Fuck! Don't burst in like that."

"Sorry," he apologizes kicking off his shoes. "But it happened It finally happened."

"What happened?"

He strides over to the couch where you had been working on to laptop but set it aside and pulls you into his lap. He nuzzles his face into your neck and you can feel his wide smile on your skin. "That night during Junior year."

"We had lots of nights Junior. Give me more than that." you request already thinking of your favorite nights spent with Osamu rather it was making an all-night drive just to watch the sunrise, nights where you went out in a group of friends and went home wearing his shoes or being carried on his back, nights spent in eating his cooking, nights spent with his dick plugged into you...

"I made love to you while I watch."

"Ah that night," you smile, "The details are a little fuzzy, Mabey you can help job my memory after dinner with the team tonight?"

His arms tightened around your waist, "Oh, gladly darlin'."

more my Haijyuu fics can be found here: Haikyuu collection

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #osamu miya #osamu x y/n #haikyuu osamu #osamu scenarios #privet stacks

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haikyuuuuuhypeeeee · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter 7

⚠️WARNING: Mentions of previous characters' deaths, swearing, mention of unhealthy coping mechanism

• ────── ✾ ────── •

You gasp as you wake up, your eyes attempting to discern anything in the dark.

What the…

Not even two seconds ago you were playing volleyball back in the Aoba Johsai gymnasium. It was a silly two on three game, Oikawa and Mattsun vs you, Makki and -

Oh.

Tears well up in your eyes, fast and hot. They flow down the side of your face, into your hair and the pillow. You do nothing to stop them, crushed by the sudden wave of sadness.

It was a dream. It was a freaking dream.

You’re alone in your apartment in the middle of the night. You’re a college student at Sendai Uni. You don’t play volleyball.

And Hajime is dead.

The sobs come out unconstrained, as you were too heartbroken to try to stop them. How could you, as it was the only way for you to let out the sorrow and anguish coursing through your blood right now.

C’mon Y/N, get yourself together. You will yourself to calm down, getting the sobs to subside. The tears don’t slow though, as you sit up to grab some tissues from your bedside table. You clean yourself up, sniffling and grabbing your phone.

It’s only just past 1am, and you can’t fathom the idea of falling back asleep. Not when there’s the chance of you falling back into that dream. Not when you can be fooled into thinking that you’re playing volleyball, still trying to receive Oikawa’s serves and laughing when Hajime yells at Makki to take this seriously -

Your eyes well up with fresh tears and you clutch a tissue to your mouth to muffle the cries that want to escape.

The only thing you’re sure about right now is that you don’t want to be alone. You can’t be alone, you just can’t.

You unlock your phone but staring at your screen you don’t know who you can call.

Ok, that’s not true. You have a lot of people you can call. Your parents, Oikawa, Mattsun, Makki, hell even your therapist gave you her cellphone to call if you need her. And you know that all of those people wouldn’t hesitate to listen to you and help you.

But do you want to call any of them?

This isn’t a life or death situation, and you don’t feel like you are a danger to yourself so it would be irresponsible to call your therapist. It’s the middle of the night and your parents still work so you don’t want to wake them up.

That leaves your friends, the people who honestly could still be awake and maybe even wanting to talk to someone. But Makki has Mattsun, and vice versa. Which would leave Oikawa, but honestly? He’s been more than unbearable lately, and you’ve been walking on eggshells around him, scared that anything you say will set him off.

So you’re here, laying in your bed with no one to call. And the one person that you desperately want to call is dead.

Sniffling again and wiping the fresh tears from your eyes you pull up your texts. Maybe you can send a funny meme to Makki and start a meme war - it’ll take your mind off your current predicament at least. But your eyes fall to the chat you have with Osamu, close to the top of your messages.

Huh, you didn’t really think of him.

Not that you wouldn’t want to talk to Osamu. He’s actually very funny, with his dry humor and easy banter. Your friendship, despite its more than unusual beginning, has blossomed into something you’ve come to cherish.

But you can’t bother him with this, no no. You guys can, and have, confide in each other about your struggles and your complicated feelings and emotions. But it’s mainly been small bits and pieces shared over coffee.

But it couldn’t hurt to text him, no?

You wouldn’t say anything about your dream. Maybe you can find a funny meme to send him, or ask a question about lunch tomorrow.

You methodically type out your message, finding a meme to almost perfectly capture your mood (but not too accurately.)

You send the text before talking yourself out of it. It wouldn’t surprise you if Osamu didn’t text you back - it’s late (or early, depending on your opinion) and he should be sleeping.

You sigh deeply, finding yourself back in square one. Square one plus a stuffy nose, aching head and absolutely broken heart. You close out of the messaging app and decide to find some show to binge while you wait for the sun to rise.

Your phone begins vibrating and you’re surprised to see what comes across your screen.

Osamu doesn’t text you back. He calls you.

You pick up the phone. “Hello?”

“I hope that photo isn’t a subtle request to have me come over and cook for ya.” The soft, calm voice coming through the phone makes your chest tighten. It brings a wave of relief because you’re not alone but drowns you in guilt at inconveniencing your friend.

You clear your throat and sniffle. “No, sorry.” Your voice cracks and you wince at how obvious it is that you were just crying.

Osamu picks up on your current state. “Hey, are ya alright?”

He sounds so concerned, the teasing lilt in his voice instantly dropped. Your eyes start to water again and you can’t stop the sob that escapes your lips in time.

“Hey, Y/N are ya okay? Where are you, what’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” you croak out. Your voice sounds horrible, extremely hoarse and tight as you try not to let more sobs spill out. Gritting your teeth helps keep them at bay but it does nothing to stop the flow of tears. You sniffle, loud.

“Where are you? Are you in danger?”

“No, no. I’m at my apartment. I’m okay.” You take in a shaky breath, sniffling again and clearing your throat. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“It’s okay,” Osamu replies. He doesn’t sound as frantic as he did before but you can detect the worry in his voice. “I was still up so it’s no bother. I don’t even know why I called honestly. I think I just wanted to see what ya were doin’ up.”

“It’s fine, you can call me whenever,” you reply earnestly. “I….just had a dream.”

A split second of hesitation is all you’re allowed to mentally scream at yourself for breaking the one condition you set when you decided to text Osamu. “A dream?”

You nod, even though he can’t see you. “Yeah, and I’m sorry for bugging you because it’s not fair to you but I just have to tell someone or else I feel like I’m going to fucking suffocate. I know I should just call my friends but they don’t want to hear me go on and on and -”

“Hey, hey Y/N. Calm down and take a breath.” You listen to Osamu, taking a pause to breathe. Your head is now throbbing painfully and your throat feels wretched. “What was yer dream about?”

“I was playing volleyball with my friends and...Hajime.” You are silently screaming at yourself. You were not going to do this to Osamu, you were not going to burden your friend, who is already facing struggles of his own, with your problems.

But...he did ask what your dream was about.

“We were playing volleyball together,” you go on. “And it felt so real, like one minute I was in the middle of a play and the next I was waking up in my bed, searching for the ball. It took me a few seconds to realize that it was all a dream, and, and,” your breath hitches again and you feel more sobs bubbling out. Again you feel the grief take control of your body and you start crying.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay Y/N.” Osamu is trying to soothe you but it’s not doing much to calm you down. If anything the added reassurance was making you cry harder “It’s okay.”

It’s not okay. It’s so far from okay that you can’t even imagine how you would get to okay.

“I’m sorry,” you sob. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Ya don’t hafta apologize,” Osamu replies. “Just let it out, Y/N.”

Oh boy, do you let it out. You cry and cry, curled up in a ball in your bed, lamenting the loss of your best friend and trying not to drown even more in your sorrow.

But you’re not alone, really. There’s not another person in the apartment with you, but you have Osamu on the phone right now. He’s reaching out to you, reaching through the dark and trying to get to you.

You’re not alone.

You feel the sobs subsiding as your breathing returns to normal. Your entire head is throbbing, you have no chance of breathing out of your nose and your eyes are painfully dry.

“Are ya alright?”

“Yeah,” you rasp out. “I’m sorry again, for that.”

“Ya don’t ever have to apologize to me,” Osamu says immediately. His insistence brings a small smile to your face. “If ya ever need to talk about yer dreams or anything, that’s what I’m here for.”

“Thank you,” you reply. Your voice is nasally but you try to get as much sincerity in it as possible.

“Of course, and ya can call whenever. I don’t sleep so there’s a good chance ya’ll catch me anytime.”

You pause in wiping your face with your tissues as you take in what Osamu is telling you. “You don’t…sleep?”

“Nah.” Osamu's nonchalant answer makes your cock your head in confusion. “I don’t think I can remember the last time I actually slept through an entire night.”

“So,” you pause, still not comprehending. “What do you…do?”

“I do my homework, I’ve got a job at the convenience store and I usually work the night shift. Sometimes I read or binge watch a new show.” He laughs. “Usually every three or four days I just pass out for 14 hours or so, and then repeat.”

“Osamu,” you chastise. “That’s not healthy.”

He laughs again but it’s not the light chuckle from before - it’s a hollow laugh with a hard edge. “Yeah, well it stops me from havin’ the kind of dreams yer havin’. The kind where I forget that my brother is dead.”

You’re taken aback from the harshness in Osamu’s voice. It’s the first time you’ve ever heard him sound like that. It could be considered in the same category as his usual tone - dry, sarcastic and nearly apathetic. But his regular tone is part of his sense of humor and how you two converse. You’ve never felt unease from those conversations, but now you do.

“And ya know what's worse than those little dreams?” Osamu doesn’t wait for input. “The worst is when I’m not even asleep and my stupid brain will give me random reminders from when my brother was alive. Like ‘don’t forget to wake up early and shower before Atsumu uses all the hot water!’ Or,” Osamu takes in a harsh breath, the noise making your phone speaker crackle. “Or the reminder to grab another sports drink at the store for Atsumu because he’s a scrub but he’s my brother and I love him. Or to save the mushrooms from my dinner even though they’re gross but Atsumu will trade his broccoli for them.”

Osamu blasts on, speaking fervently. Someone listening in would think he’s mad at you, but you know his frustration isn’t directed at you.

“But then I remember that I live alone, and I don’t need two bottles of sports drink and my plate is full of fucking mushrooms for no god damn reason.”

“And then, after feeling like the world’s biggest idiot for forgetting that my own twin brother is dead, I remember how alone I am.” He lets out another laugh, but it’s not light nor is it bitter. It’s worse, full of self-deprecation and pain.

You wait with bated breath, waiting for any sign on life through the phone. But when Osamu speaks, a small, broken voice comes through the line and nearly breaks your heart.

“It’s like - finding a life raft in the middle of the ocean but when you get to it it’s just a bundle of seaweed - it gets me every time.”

You inhale quietly. You want to reassure him but you can’t find the right words to say.

You can’t, because you know exactly how it feels.

The cold hard truth is that Iwaizumi Hajime is dead. There is nothing in the world that can bring him back, and there is nothing you can do to change that fact. Some days you can accept this fact easier than others.

On the easy days you feel most like yourself carrying a small rock. The weight of Hajime’s death will be something you will always carry with you. But on those easy days you can slip the rock in your pocket or hold it in your hand and carry on through life.

On the hard days it takes way more effort to lug the boulder around. You don’t know if you should drag it, heft it over your shoulder, tie a rope around it and yank hard. Sometimes you’re left to your own devices, sometimes your therapist or your parents can tell you the best way to carry it. Even your friends have stepped in to help you carry it, despite their own rocks to hold.

But the absolute worst days are the ones where you lose the rock, but you haven’t realized it. Where are you going to find it? In your pocket? Your bag? Will you trip over it?

Or will it come crashing down on you like an asteroid hellbent on wiping you out?

And it’s not even the impact that’s the worst part! Sure, this asteroid comes down on you with enough force to kill you, but the shockwave is what really destroys you.

When you have those moments when you forget that your Hajime is dead, the realization of his nonexistence is the asteroid’s impact on you. The cruel realization that his nonexistence is permanent for the remainder of your life is the shockwave.

This cruel one-two punch is devastating. It knocks you down and out, merciless in it’s destruction.

For what it’s worth, Osamu’s solution to dodging that one-two punch is not terrible, although it will have major consequences for his body and mind that he will have to face someday. But you can’t blame him for doing something to avoid the heavy blow.

It does destroy. It does make you feel like you’re drowning. It does nearly kill you.

“Ah, I think she fell asleep.” You’ve been quiet for so long that Osamu thinks you’ve fallen asleep on the phone.

“No, I'm here.” You murmur. “Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“Ah, a dangerous pastime.” Osamu jokes, but it doesn’t quite land. Could be from his full disclosure or from the strained laugh he gives at the end of the sentence.

“It is,” you agree. “But I was thinking about what you said.” He doesn’t respond, letting you continue. “And I just wanted to say...I get it.”

There’s silence on the other end. It’s so quiet that you fear for a second that Osamu has hung up the phone in anger, or maybe he’s drifted off to sleep. But then you hear another breathy exhale, a laugh from a person who is the furthest from laughing.

“Ya know Y/N? I think you’re the only person who does.”

You exhale and close your eyes. You find it hard to open them back up, pure exhaustion taking over your body.

“We’re still on for lunch tomorrow, right?”

“Of course,” Osamu answers. “But ya gotta rest now if ya wanna wake up in time for it.”

A small smile crosses your face. “Sure. Promise me you’ll try to get some sleep too?”

A noncommittal hum is the answer you receive, not ideal but you don’t push him. You feel brittle and fragile, and you’re sure he’s the same.

“Osamu, thank you.” You want to convey how thankful you are, not only that he called you tonight but for coming into your life at a time where you needed a friendly face. You know your gratitude doesn’t come close to covering the vast expanse of your gratefulness but you hope you’ll have time to show him.

“No worries, get some sleep. I’ll see ya tomorrow. Good night Y/N.”

“Good night Osamu.” Your eyes slip close, and you let yourself fall into a dreamless sleep.

• ────── ✾ ────── •

A/N: 😔😔 y’all this story is making me Big Sad and I wrote it. 🥲 Thank you so much for reading!!! I should probably mention that the time stamps in the chat and on the tweets and such are accurate - the story is moving right along!

Taglist Open! Please send an Ask with the request to be added to It’s [Not] Okay Fic & SMAU: @psycho-nightrose @camcam1617 @kamalymaly @toobsessedsstuff @shookykookie30 @roro-707 @qualitygiantshoepsychic @cerealfrdinner797 @ara-mitsue @gray-444 @tanakasimpcorner @rintarovibes @jellien @everytimeswift @bongofrito

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memesfromstuff · 4 years ago

Text

*: ･ﾟ✧ therapy inspired starters.

some starters inspired by my 6+ years in therapy, both from good and less good experiences. feel free to change pronouns, wording, etc. as needed! (obvious trigger warnings for various dark topics such as suicidal thoughts, self harm, etc.)

THERAPIST / PSYCHOLOGIST / PSYCHIATRIST’S POV.

“ what can you do to change that?”

“ how does that make you feel?”

“ what emotions are you feeling underneath that anxiety?”

“ how does it feel coming here today?”

“ i notice you get more quiet when you talk about it.”

“ do you notice you’re withdrawing a little just now?”

“ can you allow yourself to have contact with me right now?”

“ what makes it difficult having contact right now, talking about this?”

“ i understand it’s difficult for you. understandably so.”

“ i notice you’re smiling when you’re talking about it. why is that?”

“ here, i’ll get you some more tissues.”

“ it’s okay. just let it out.”

“ it’s okay to let it out.”

“ do i understand you correctly that that’s something you want to work on more?”

“ do you have any thoughts like that now?”

“ have you made any actual plans to do it?”

“ did you have to get stitches?”

“ can you allow yourself to feel [emotion] at that?”

“ what are your thoughts around that?”

“ say it was someone else in your place... would you still think the same about them?”

“ i don’t think talking about that is the best for you right now.”

“ i think we need to focus on getting you out in social situations.”

“ i think what you need is to get more positive experiences.”

“ i think talking about it can end up only damaging you more.”

“ i don’t believe that.”

“ i never said that.”

“ you’re stronger than you think.”

“ that’s something you need to figure out.”

“ i’m trying to push you to find that strength to fight.”

PATIENT’S POV.

“ every time i see a glimmer of hope, something comes to snuff it out.”

“ i’m just tired...”

“ i don’t know how to put it into words.”

“ i’m smiling because i’m trying to hold it in.”

“ i’m smiling because i’m uncomfortable.”

“ i’m just so tired of not being heard.”

“ i feel like i’m not being taken seriously.”

“ just because i pretend to be fine doesn’t mean that i’m fine.”

“ i’m struggling a lot more than i let anyone see.”

“ it’s like a black hole in my stomach that sucks out anything positive.”

“ it makes me feel physically sick.”

“ i’ve had a lot of trouble sleeping lately.”

“ i’ve barely eaten anything lately.”

“ i’ll wake up from anxiety and start hyperventilating.”

“ i feel like i’m not good enough.”

“ it makes me feel worthless.”

“ i keep wondering what i did wrong.”

“ i feel like i deserved it.”

“ i know rationally that it wasn’t my fault, but it still feels like it was.”

“ it’s like my thoughts and my feelings are colliding with each other.”

“ i want to talk about and work on my trauma.”

“ i don’t feel ready to talk about that right now...”

“ if i didn’t have [person] in my life, i probably wouldn’t be sitting here right now.”

“ i considered calling the crisis line.”

“ i started having these really dark thoughts and it scared me.”

“ i want to work on my self-esteem.”

“ these small every-day noises makes me jump.”

“ i feel anxious just doing every day tasks.”

“ i feel like i’m pulled back in time to when it happened.”

“ this time of year is just harder for me.”

“ when you constantly get negative comments every single day, you start to believe it.”

“ the one friend i thought i had, turned out not to be much of a friend after all.”

“ no matter how much i know i should cut him out of my life, and that i’m only hurting myself otherwise, i can’t get myself to do it, because i still love him, despite it all.”

“ it hurts even more when it comes from someone who knows you.”

“ i feel like a lot of therapist just use the fact that they have an education to treat their patients however they want instead of actually listening to them.”

“ what do i do now? i don’t know where else i can go.”

“ i still need help.”

“ sorry i used up all the tissue paper...”

“ can we talk about it inside the office instead of out here, please?”

“ you told me you didn’t believe me.”

“ i feel like you don’t listen to me at all.”

“ i’ve told you i want to talk about it, and you keep not letting me talk about it.”

“ the reason i’m struggling so much in the first place is because i’ve kept bottling it up for so long.”

#rp memes #roleplay memes #rp sentences #sentence starters #sentence memes #[ category: miscellaneous.]

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