#i acknowledge that the whole your brain is mimicking pain when you see other people in pain thing is real and uncontrollable but like | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dameronology · 3 years

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asystole {obi-wan kenobi x reader}

summary: ‘the trouble is the way you stick, to any part of me that remains in tact/but if i pull the plug, it isn’t only me i’m holding back’ - asystole, hayley williams (a.k.a ‘the one where you’re the bane of obi-wan’s life, even as a force ghost’)

warnings: mentions of death, swearing, angst, and me not having a single fucking clue how force ghosts work

this was originally based on a random idea i had and also encouragement from kara/@hellotherekenobi who requested a prompt that i completely forgot to include but...we move. also, i would highly highly recommend listening to the above song just because it’s a real tear jerker and i lOVE it

enjoy

- jazz

Loss, for Obi-Wan, was not a stranger. It was an old acquaintance, constantly lingering beside him -- not quite there, but not gone either. He could always feel its presence, a constant and painful reminder of everyone he’d lost. He could probably count them all one hand but that didn’t make it any better. Loss was loss, whether it were two people or ten. Even if his grief had stopped and started with the passing of his master all those years ago, it was still something he felt in its wholeness and in its entirety. Because that’s all Obi-Wan could do: feel. It was everything or nothing. Zero percent or one hundred.

And with you, he wished it were nothing. He wished that your sudden absence from his life was something he didn’t have to feel in every fibre of his being. It was hard enough to acknowledge and even more painful to comprehend. You were the one person he’d always just assumed would be there forever. How foolish it now seemed, he was very much aware. Everybody died -- Qui-Gon Jinn was a testament to that; as was Satine Kryze and quite literally every other person in the galaxy who’d had the pleasure of being reminded of their mortality. It was just that this was...it was you. You weren’t immortal by any means but maker, you had acted like it. The way you went about life with an air of recklessness and discontent for the rules, making even the hardest of missions into an adventure. His life had been a thousand times better since you’d come running - nay, stumbling - into it. You’d blown his entire world to bits and pieced it back together with tiny, intricate bits of yours. Filled it with chaos and laughter and a light he hadn’t felt since the days of his youth.

Perhaps most importantly, you’d looked after one another. He would stay by your side 24/7 to make sure you kept your head screwed on your shoulders, and you would pester him to drink water and remember to eat. He would remind you when you had important missions and meetings, and in return, you’d proof-read his paper work. He remembered the first time he’d fallen asleep beside you, to wake up with a blanket wrapped around him and his boots pulled off. It was so clear in his head because it was the first time someone had ever done anything for him without asking. It became something you did often, and though he never said it, it was something he kept so close to his heart.

Obi-Wan wasn’t a fool. He knew you weren’t going to be around forever - he just didn’t realise that not forever was going to be a whole lot sooner that he’d anticipated. He used to make jokes about how your recklessness would one day lead to your demise. The idea of it made him feel sick now. He’d been right the entire time. He didn’t want it to be real.

None of it felt real. The whole conversation he’d had with Mace Windu about you not making it felt like a distant nightmare, something he’d tried so hard to wake up from, only to find that he was wide awake the entire fucking time. Night terrors were bad, but reality was arguably worse.

It didn’t feel right at first, to see your chambers still filled with your stuff and your lightsaber still resting on your nightstand. Obi had been the one to put it there when you’d been taken to the infirmary, thinking you would have asked for it when you woke up - but you didn’t. It went hand-in-hand with the robes he’d hung up on your door and the get well soon, moron card he’d brought you.

Then, they emptied your room. Took your clothes and your books and every other worldly possession you had. Your name was removed from the door to your quarters and added to the list of Jedi who had died in combat on the stone in the Temple gardens. Aside from that, any sign that you had ever walked the halls or burst into council meetings at the last minute was gone. You lived on only in his memories, your lopsided smile ingrained into his mind and contagious laugh echoing constantly in his brain.

Throwing himself into work was the only option for Obi-Wan. He already took on a thousand things at once, but without you to help bare the weight, it became a million. If he was busy, he didn’t have time to think -- about you, or how fucking fragile everything was, or about all the ways he could have saved you. You’d slipped through his fingers, even when he’d be holding on so tightly. It wasn’t his fault. It was just...life.

A few weeks passed, and Obi-Wan continued to push himself. Everybody noticed it -- how suddenly busy he was, how quiet he’d become, how tired he looks. Blue eyes had grown exhausted with grief and regret, strawberry blonde hair becoming longer and unrulier than was characteristic for him. When you’d died, you’d taken a tiny piece of him with you. An important part. Maybe that part had been you.

It was on a cold Tuesday evening that he heard the four words. Sat out on the balcony of his quarters, watching Coruscant and life pass by in a blur ahead of him, a tangle of traffic and noise and a million sounds that he couldn’t quite decipher. The sky was a navy blue, cast with the tiny little glints and dots of distant planets. All worlds that you’d once promised to explore

‘You look like shit.’

He thought he’d imagined it at first. In fact, it wouldn’t have been the first time in the last few weeks that the sound of your voice in his head had felt clear enough to be real. Imagining things - hallucinations and echoes of the long gone - was simply part of the grieving process. A process he’d gone through countless times before.

The sudden appearance of you in the corner of his eye jolted him like an electric shock. Perhaps not that far off of the emotional equivalent of being hit by a bus. Or a light freighter. Or...all of those things at once.

You were ethereal. When he’d last seen you, you’d been...tired. Now, you were smiling and radiating some sort of energy that could only be described as quintessentially you. There was not a chance in hell that a grief-induced hallucination could be so life-like, so crystal clear. Plus, why would he have imagined you like this, slightly transparent and with a blue glow surrounding you? A fitting colour for your final form, he figured.

‘Shocked to see me?’ Your drawl continued. ‘Because if you think you’re shocked, let me tell you. One second I was napping and the next I was a fucking Force ghost. Could you imagine?’

Obi-Wan smiled softly. ‘I don’t think I could.’

‘I can float through walls, though.’ You grinned. ‘How cool is that?’

‘It’s...that’s very cool.’ He replied. ‘I don’t suppose you can hug Force ghosts?’

Obi-Wan reached his palm out towards you - slowly but surely, as though he were scared you were going to fade away all over again if he touched you. You mimicked his actions, faded blue fingertips just moments away from his. When they finally touched, they didn’t. You felt nothing. He felt a rush of cold, as though somebody had poured a bucket of cold water over him.

He didn’t fully understand the concept of Force ghosts. Studied them, sure. Understood them? Not quite. There weren’t enough Jedi texts in the galaxy to fully capture the complexity of what made somebody come back. Often, they were linked to acts of heroism, or stemming from action taken when the person was still alive. That didn’t seem like you though. You weren’t the sort of person to try to fiddle with jinxes and hijinkery that would allow you to come back once you were dead - at least not purposefully. There was certainly every chance you did it accidentally.

‘Guess not.’ You murmured. ‘Sorry ‘bout that.’

The icy feeling only grew closer as you took a seat beside him. It was funny, because he thought that if he’d had the chance to reunite with you, that it would have been more emotional than this. Something filled with more feeling and grandeur. Instead, you’d just appeared, and acted as though you’d never been gone in the first place. Obi-Wan preferred it that way.

‘I’ve missed you.’ He continued to stare blankly ahead.

When you died, there were a thousand things he’d come up with that he’d wished he’d said. They ranged from comments about the weather to grand declarations of...how much you meant to him. All things he would never dare say to your face, and that’s probably why he came up with them. Because he would never get the chance to say them. And now, here you were, right beside him, and he had a second opportunity to get that closure -- but the words didn’t quite come. They stayed on the tip of his tongue, there, but not quite there. Even if this wasn’t quite the version of you that he imagined himself telling them to, it was still undeniably you.

‘I should hope so.’ You tried to nudge him with your elbow, but it was just another icy jab. ‘I would say that I missed you too, but I don’t know where I’ve been.’

‘What happened between then and now?’ Obi asked. ‘Between that and this?’

‘Okay, first of all - you can say my death. Coming up with a thousand other words for it won’t undo it.’ You said. ‘And...I don’t know. I just remember blaster fire, then some darkness, and then I was here.’

‘Did it hurt?’

‘Well it didn’t tickle.’ You replied ‘It was quick, if that’s any comfort.’

‘I suppose it is.’ He murmured.

‘You’re being uncharacteristically quiet.’ You observed. ‘I can go away if you want. I’m not sure how this whole thing works but if you want me to leave, I can go and scare Dex-’

‘- that’s the last thing I want.’ He cut you off. ‘I just..I’ve spent the last few weeks trying not to acknowledge that you’re truly gone and it’s a little hard to do that when you’re quite literally a ghost.’

‘I’m not really gone though, am I?’ You said. ‘I’m still here. Not as I’d like to be, but I’m here.’

‘So as long as you’re around to irritate me and make snide comments, you’re here.’ He smiled. ‘Whether that’s in the flesh or...in the blue.’

‘I’m sorry it happened.’ You gently sighed. ‘Not sorry that I died for the greater good but sorry it was so..sudden.’

‘It’s not your fault.’ He wanted to reach across, to take your hand in his or run it down your arm - but he couldn’t. He couldn’t deal with another rush of cold in place of what used to be warm flesh. ‘It was still undeniably your most half-witted decision to date but you saved a lot of people, so I won’t hold it against you.’

‘Oh, how kind.’ You snorted. ‘I bet you’ve secretly enjoyed the peace and quiet, Kenobi.’

‘I miss it already.’

Obi-Wan woke up the next morning, still on the balcony. The air was cold -- as evidenced by his violent shivers -- and the sky had changed from navy, to a turquoise-tainted pink. The city below was moderately quiet, signalling that it was still pretty early. The only sounds were coming from traffic in the distance and the occasional whoosh of a passing jet in the sky above. He stayed like that for a moment, azure eyes clouded with some kind of apprehension as he watched the clouds slowly pass, not a care in the world for the fact it was fucking freezing.

Last night had been real, even if there was no sign of your presence. Actually, that wasn’t quite true -- the robes he’d discarded before your appearance had been thrown over him like a blanket. They did little to protect him from the cold air, but it was a confirmation that you had been there. He wasn’t sure when you’d left - or how - but he was the only one on the balcony.

There were a lot of questions floating about in his head. Why were you only turning up now after weeks? Why had you materialised by him? Why were you here at all? You were finally free, free to do literally whatever you wanted, and you’d wound up by his side. There were millions and millions of places in the galaxy and somehow, his balcony was the one where you’d wanted to be.

After showering and shaving, Obi-Wan found himself heading towards the classroom of the best Jedi he knew: Yoda. If anyone was going to know anything about Force ghosts, it was him. He’d have to make sure not to let slip exactly what he was talking about - your relationship with him was far more attached than the code allowed, after all - in a more general sense, he must have had something to offer. It wasn’t the kind of thing they taught in Jedi training. If anything, it was the opposite. The lesson was don’t become attached enough to someone so that they haunt you! - and it was one at which he’d failed quite miserably.

‘Master Kenobi.’ Yoda sat in the middle of the classroom, meditating. He didn’t have to open his eyes to know who it was. ‘Of assistance, may I be?’

‘Good morning.’ Obi-Wan greeted him with a bow. ‘I have some questions, and I was hoping you might be able to help me.’

‘Do go on. Help, I might be able to.’

‘Right.’ He cleared his throat, awkwardly taking a seat beside him. ‘What do you know about Force ghosts?’

‘Lots. Specific, you must be.’

‘Say you had a dear friend, and they died.’ He began. ‘Then they came back a little while as a Force ghost.’

‘Come back, they don’t.’ Yoda opened one eye, glancing over at him. ‘Never gone, they were. The Force takes time to manifest.’

‘So...the ghost version of them is still them?’

‘Very much so.’ He said. ‘Why, there are many reasons. Many Jedi study for a long time to materialise as ghosts after passing.’

‘What if they didn’t?’

‘Then unfinished business, they have.’ He replied. ‘When a Jedi dies, their Force connections do too. If they are left unbroken, exist as a ghost they will.’

Well, that explained it.

‘Right.’ He murmured. ‘Last question, I promise - how long does that connection usually last?’

‘Months to years, it may be.’ He explained. ‘On their unfinished business, the connection depends.’

‘That makes sense.’ Obi-Wan nodded. ‘Thank you, Master Yoda.’

The little green creature simply nodded in response, turning his attention back to his meditation. He didn’t ask questions -- what was the point? He’d been around hundreds of years, and dealt with hundreds of similar things in that time. Truth be told, he didn’t have all the answers. He was just good at acting like it.

Obi-Wan pondered on the conversation for the rest of the day.

There were a lot of things that could have constituted your unfinished business. The list was endless, especially given how suddenly you’d passed. Nobody knew you better than Obi-Wan, but even he struggled to decipher it. You weren’t the sort of person who would hang around for no good reason. It had to be something important -- something so pressing that you quite literally couldn’t pass away in its entirety without dealing with it. Part of him was worried that he didn’t know at all; you were always sneaking about, always doing something that you shouldn’t have been. That left a long list of possibilities.

But Yoda had directly mentioned Force connections, right? Maybe he’d meant it in a general way, but Obi would have been a complete dumb-ass to think that the Jedi didn’t know what was going on. If the situation didn’t tell him, his seeming ability to know everything about everyone certainly would have. You were the only person he could have possibly been talking about.

It was something he knew he had to bring up, and so he made the mental promise to himself. The best time would have been that night, when he saw you again. If he saw you again. He trusted you to return. You knew better now than to disappear forever without saying goodbye.

And he’d been right. That evening, after he’d exchanged goodbyes with Anakin, Obi-Wan found himself wandering out to the balcony. Sure enough, you were leant against the railings, back turned to him as you peered down at the city below. The air was cold again -- maybe because it was Winter, but also maybe because of you -- and the harsh winds blew back your hair. He wanted to reach out and feel it, to feel you, but he couldn’t. A man whose love language was physical touch was sure to suffer when the person he wanted most was a fucking entity.

‘You’re late.’ You glanced over your shoulder at him. ‘Don’t your meetings normally end at six?’

‘Anakin wanted to talk about something.’ He replied. ‘So is this your life now? Waiting for me to come home?’

You snorted. ‘Don’t flatter yourself. I’ve been at the diner all day moving stuff around to confuse Dex.’

‘That’s mean.’

‘And what would you do if you were a Force ghost?’

Wait for you. Follow you.

‘Explore.’ He lied, leaning against the balcony beside you. ‘I spoke to Yoda today about...this.’

‘Mmm?’

‘He said that people who usually come back either purposefully prepared for it when they were still alive.’

‘Or?’

‘How do you know there’s an or?’

‘Because I sometimes struggled to turn on my lightsaber. You think I’m skilled enough to do this shit on purpose, Kenobi?’

‘You’re…’ brilliantly intelligent, easily the smartest person I know, ‘...clever. Don’t put yourself down.’

‘Just cut to the point.’

‘Right.’ Obi-Wan cleared his throat. ‘He said that, or that they had unfinished business. Force connections still strong enough to keep them here.’

‘So, you and me?’

‘What?’

‘Our Force connection.’ You said it as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. ‘You do know what we have one, right?’

‘I...I figured we were always just...close.’

‘No, you dipshit.’ You shook your head with a laugh. ‘They can develop between best friends. It’s a little rare, but we’re both so strong with the Force that it just happens naturally.’

‘That makes sense.’ he turned to look out at the city. ‘I didn’t really have a best friend before you.’

You looked over at him, a smile playing on your lips. ‘Yeah, me neither.’

Obi-Wan quickly fell into a routine, post-you. Not post-you completely, because he still saw you every evening, but that had helped push him towards the transition. He adjusted to only seeing you after work - not in the mornings or during the day or every waking second like it used to be. Nothing was how it used to be. Not even close. You were no longer beside him during meets or climbing into bed next to him when you had nightmares. There were no more missions with you or late nights filled with paperwork and laughter.

That was the problem.

You were here, but you weren’t really. The ghost he saw every night had your eyes and your laugh and your personality, but it wasn’t really you. Obi-Wan couldn’t touch you; he couldn’t feel you in the same way he used to. It was like having a conversation with a figment of his imagination -- conversations of false hope and plans that would never come to fruition. Because you could banter and you could laugh and you act like things weren’t completely fucking different, but they were. You were a ghost. A ghost of yourself, a ghost of the past, a ghost of what used to be.

It had helped the pain at first. Eased the dread of knowing that you weren’t ever going to be back, not properly. Obi-Wan had appreciated that. It made grieving a lot easier when you were technically still there to tease and jester him through the process. Knowing that his friendship was the reason you couldn’t fully let go of existing had both made it better and worse. Better, because it meant you cared for him as deeply as he did for you. Worse, because it was so open-ended. At what point would you be satisfied enough to finally let go? Would he get to say goodbye, or would you just be here forever?

That was the problem, Obi-Wan had come to find.

He was hopelessly in love with you - though that much was obvious - and he couldn’t deal with only having some of you. He wanted all of you, or he wanted none of you. Only being able to talk to a blue apparition of you just wasn’t enough. It was just a constant reminder that the person he loved most in the universe was gone, and that he’d never fully have you. He was kicking himself for that one. What if he’d said something to you when you were still alive? Declared his love for when he could still physically reach out to you?

That was the thought plaguing his mind every night. With you beside him, a cold aura radiating towards him as you sat with your legs hugged to your chest. It had been a few weeks since your first appearance, and your nights together ranged from deep conversations to comfortable silence. The latter was always worse, because Obi-Wan constantly found himself teetering on the edge of saying something. It was hard, because despite everything, he found you to be more enchanting and peaceful than ever. More entrancing.

‘Can I tell you something?’ He asked.

‘Sure thing.’ You peered over at him. ‘You look worried. Is it serious?’

He paused for a moment. ‘Depends how you take it, I suppose.’

‘Try me.’

‘There are…’ he faltered again. ‘There are some things I regret not telling you when you were still here.’

‘I am here.’ You reminded him.

‘No, I know that.’ He found himself unable to look at you. ‘I mean when you were here here.’

‘What’s the difference, Obi?’

‘Remember when you used to come to my bedroom at 2AM because you’d had a bad dream?’ He asked. ‘Or when you’d throw yourself into my arms after we’d been separated on long missions?’

‘Yeah.’

He absent-mindedly reached a hand out towards you; it went straight through you, a rush of cold shooting down his arm. ‘I can’t do that anymore.’

‘You can still talk to me.’ You urged. ‘You can still be with me-’

‘- not in the way I want.’ Not in the way I need.

‘What do you mean?’ You gently pushed.

‘You don’t need me to explain it.’ He finally looked at you, blue eyes shrouded with an emotion you couldn’t quite decipher.

‘Obi-Wan, what do you think has been keeping me here?’ You asked.

You knew. Of course you fucking knew. Try as he might to be mysterious and suave, but you could read him like a book -- and it was a shock to you that he hadn’t seen your feelings either. They were clear as day to both of you, and yet it had been easier to ignore them for the sake of your friendship, and for the sake of the code. You both always figured that you could deal with them at a later date, because that’s when you’d had a later.

‘Just say it.’ You murmured. ‘Say that you love me too and I’ll go-’

‘- I don’t want you to go.’ He cut you off. ‘Because then you’re gone forever.’

‘And then you can move on.’ You smiled. Neither of you knew that ghosts could cry until now.

This was the closest he would ever get to having you now. He could have just sucked it up and dealt with it, and kept you by his side in your ominous form - but would that have been fair on you? To keep you around, just because he was so full of regret over things unsaid and so full of fear over grieving? None of this was fair, on him or on you.

‘I can’t say it.’ Obi-Wan murmured. ‘Not yet.’

‘It’s okay.’ You gave him a watery smile. ‘I know.’

Neither of you said anything else - maybe you didn’t want to, or maybe you were scared to. The fact you’d finally acknowledged the bantha in the room after years, finally admitting that love had been the driving force behind what made your friendship so good, for so long. The irony was that when you’d died, he’d wanted nothing more than for you to come back in some form. Now, he realised that it was holding him back from moving on -- and he couldn’t do that until he’d let you go. But he couldn’t do that either.

Unbeknownst to Obi-Wan, his words had been a confession. Albeit a thinly veiled one, but a confession nonetheless. It had confirmed to you the only thing you’d wanted to know before you’d passed: that he loved you back. That was all you needed. It was all you’d ever needed.

Eventually, the Jedi beside you grew sleepy. That’s how it usually went every night -- you’d talk, he’d fall asleep beside you, and you’d cover him with a blanket and slip out to wherever it was that Force ghosts went at night. He never asked, for fear of it ruining the mystery. Obi-Wan knew that he wasn’t the only person you saw, but it was a nice thought, and one he didn’t want to taint. At least you took more mercy on him than you did with Dex, who slowly thought he was going insane at all the random objects suddenly being moved around.

When you heard him gently snoring, you stood up. Obi-Wan looked peaceful, as though he’d finally gotten something of his chest - even though he hadn’t realised he’d done it. He hadn’t realised that it had been enough.

You leant down beside him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. For the first time since you’d appeared, you could finally feel his skin against yours - no cold jolts, no body parts suddenly disappearing through the other. Just your lips against his; warm and...human.

‘Good night, Obi-Wan.’ You ran a hand through his hair, before standing up and stepping back. ‘I love you. I’ll always love you.’

He felt it. He was asleep, but he felt your lips on his and your hand in his hair, and he’d secretly smiled to himself, not entirely realising what was going on. He’d thought it was a dream, or that he was simply imagining that you could finally touch him as though you were a human, and no longer a cold, blue ghost.

Because you weren’t. You were no longer a ghost.

Obi-Wan didn’t realise till he rose the next morning, a blanket tossed over him and the feeling of your lips still lingering on his, even hours later. He even dared to smile for a moment, before the knowledge of what he’d done hit him. He’d given you what you wanted - an unintentional confession of love. The thing you needed to finally cut off your Force connection. The only thing still tethering you to this world.

You were gone, but at least he’d finally gotten what he wanted. You. Even if it was only for a few moments.

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roxxelll · 3 years

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Good day all. Since today is my 26th birthday, I’ve been doing a bit of reflecting & I thought it’d be fitting to share a part of myself I seldom talk about. A little over a week ago, it was the ninth anniversary of my admittance to rehab. I haven’t thought about my time there for a long while but for some reason this year I’ve been a little overwhelmed with emotion. I thought I’d write it all down and share a bit of it in hopes that it might help someone, whether it’s to shift their thinking or give them a little hope.

I wrote the piece below almost 6 years ago but after reading over it I still find it one of the most eloquent things I might’ve tried to express. The reason I chose to share it is to say to anyone- if you are struggling and this time is testing your mental health and your strength, you are stronger than you think. A bad day doesn’t mean you are losing, it means you are coping and working hard at beating your own demons.

I don’t talk about this side of my life a whole lot but it would be nice if you could share it if you resonate with it in some way or if you feel like you know someone who might.

>>It gets a little long and there are TRIGGERS for eating disorders so please proceed with caution !!! <<

I do this thing where I often brush over my anorexia in conversation, and as expected, this might be the first time many of you are hearing of it. I just never felt the need to tell my story to the people in my life, I never wanted it to be the thing that everyone rolls their eyes about.

However, I think it is time for me to tell my story. In full. What prompted me was that I have seen how my story became an inspiration for someone else; a reason for them to feel that they are not alone in the world. I was in awe that something so terrible in my life could be used for something so good.

This is the story of my eating disorder and I.

19 January, 2015

My mind was my body’s worst enemy. It was a weapon of mass destruction, ticking away in my head. Misconceptions invaded my mind and multiplied into thoughts and soon after their images were all I saw in the mirror.

I can’t give my mind all the credit; I didn’t create all the misconceptions in my own mind, even if they were all allowed to grow there. My mind only mimicked what it was being fed at just about every turn. One of the things I remember so vividly is seeing an underwear model. She was sexy and beautiful and I could think of nothing I wanted more in the world than her body. So started the worst train of thought I have ever had: the aspiration for perfection.

The media can be a scary thing. As a teenager, it was pretty much most of what everyone was talking about and consuming on a day to day basis. By the time I was in grade 10 in high school, all my time had been consumed by trying to getting the best grades and only producing my best work in my visual arts class. My time in the sports field ceased all together and in my mind the only way for me to achieve my standards of perfection was to go down the dark, sinister route that I had not even realised I'd taken.

On 26 October 2011, I was diagnosed with anorexia nervosa. There is no easy way to explain the feeling of your own head telling you that you are not good enough, that you are disgusting, that you are too fat, that you may not eat.

2011 was not a good year for me, I remember so well that a bad day would grow into a bad week and eventually evolve into bad months. My family seemed as dysfunctional as ever, I picked up the nasty habit of smoking and the stress of school had only weakened my state of mind. I hated what I was and I had somehow convinced myself that everyone else around me felt the same way, when in fact I was the one pushing them away. Sometime in mid October, armed robbers had broken into my house. No one in my family was hurt, but I had gotten away with a broken arm and a few bruises.

It was then in hospital that doctors had noticed there was something off about me. It must have been brain shattering for my parents to see what had been eating away at me for months only at that moment. How could they when all I did was hide from the world?

I was admitted into rehab after that and I did not sit for my November exams. In six months I had lost 14kgs. I have been in remission since.

My life was consumed by loss. First it was the weight, then my strength, and eventually demons began to nibble away at my personality. I watched my life crumble away as fast as my body did. My hair started to fall out and my nails stopped growing. I lost my period all together. My bones stuck out of my body like they were unwanted intruders, I became as frail, dead and dull as an old building.

Misconceptions are the hardest scars to heal. They forced my body apart from my mind. I have learned that it's called body disconnection, the feeling of being absolutely cut off from your body. No experience was good enough in my body because my mind wanted to be as far from this body as possible. I don't know how you can even explain it... Imagine wanting to be so far out of a room you would give anything to leave it. Now imagine that was your own body and you can start to understand body disconnection. You can leave an uncomfortable room. You can’t evacuate your own body. Excruciating, isn’t it? Looking in the mirror, I never saw a body that was perfect, only the disgusting images of what my mind had made me believe I looked like: the image of imperfection. It was shattering, painful and exhausting..

It's been three years now.

I'm quite proud to admit that my annoying need to overachieve at everything has been my biggest weakness and my greatest strength. I never wanted to do something halfway, and this was no different: I got an eating disorder as bad as they go. But I sure as hell got a recovery as good as they go. I have not relapsed or regressed. I have just grown in confidence and in strength. I haven’t done that on my own: the support I have had from just about every corner of my life has been my lifeline. Even on Tumblr where people are so confident just to share selfies and feel good about how great they look. Nothing makes me happier to see people love who they are. The people in my life have fought with me in my corner with so much strength they could collectively save the world. I am not sure I could ever find the words to describe the impact they have made.

People tell me every day how far I have come in three years. They see me eat and think it is all over. There is little truth in an assumption so bold. Here’s the thing no one told me about when I first thought an eating disorder is a good idea: it never leaves you. It just becomes less overwhelming. I still have the scars to face every day. I say remission because I never really heal. Then again I am only human and people often forget that when I have a bad day. The truth is I face my worst fear every time I sit down to eat no matter how much it seems like I love food.

I'm not perfect, no one is. And in time I've learned this fact and to love myself. I don't burst at the seams with confidence, but I definitely have more now than what I did three years ago. There are days where a relapse sits on the horizon but you just have to hold your head high and fight it. I don't write this in hopes of becoming a role model but I do hope it inspires people, not just those who face what I did, but with any curve ball life decides to throw at them. There's always a way out if you're willing to look for it.

_______________

I wrote this five years ago. This passed year has probably been the biggest test of my recovery in a long time. Staying at home with constant worries about access to the gym, my safe foods and social distancing are prime triggers for a relapse for me. It’s true that you never fully recover, but you do get better with time. Every day is a constant fight against my ED, depression and anxiety, and there are many days where it seems like climbing this never-ending mountain is impossible. But I’ve come to realise that any step we take in pushing against it (even just acknowledging our emotions and thoughts) is one in the right direction.

In the past week I have thought quite a lot about my anorexia and impact it has had on my life, my family and my body. And the truth is, I still choose to wake up and fight the “mad bitch” everyday. Some days are definitely harder than others, sometimes it’s easy. But I win everytime because I choose to fight it. So I really hope that anyone fighting their demons (whatever they may be) will reflect on how strong they are and the journey they have walked. ♡

#roxy txt #sorry this is really emotional but i rly wanted to share it #tw eating disorder #tw anorexia #tw rehab mention #i hope this spreads some postivity despite the sad story #if anyone even takes the time to read it lmfao #ok to rb btw!#also i am always here for you guys #lets celebrate ourselves today <3

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velkynkarma · 4 years

Note

[Star] for The Best Lies (for the record, I went back and forth between this, The Greatest Challenge, Parasite Knight and Prince of Memories. Which is your fault for writing so many deep and interesting fics)

Ooooh, there’s so many good sections in The Best Lies, but I’ll pick this one:

So he feints left. Terkon crouches a little, reaching with one massive hand to deflect, and Ryou whirls at the last minute. He reverses momentum and strikes with his right hand, fingers flat like a blade just like Shiro favors, aiming straight for Terkon’s face.Terkon catches it, clawed fingers digging into Ryou’s forearm just behind the wrist, barely a foot away from his eyes.Ryou strains to push his arm forward, digging his feet into the metal flooring. Terkon’s grip doesn’t budge, and his metal-tipped claws dig into the paladin armor hard enough to leave nicks in the material.Everything that is Shiro in him panics. Memories whip up again in a frenzy, every single instance that Terkon’s ever had him cold, every single time he’s been caught. It’s over, those memories scream. It’s over. Too late. I resisted but he won. Suffering is coming. Too late. Too late. Too late. They claw at his mind, trying to overcome him, drag him away into a place he can’t get out of.But Ryou stays calm. It’s so easy, somehow. He should be panicking; every instinct of his own or Shiro’s is screaming of danger. He should be terrified. Suffering is coming.But those things aren’t the case anymore. They’re memories. They aren’t now. Ryou knows exactly where he is now. He acknowledges that pain, that suffering, that horror, recognizes that it happened. And then refuses to let it overcome him.That is not me, he thinks. That was never me. I am Ryou Shirogane, and I will protect the real Shiro from all of those things.The memories stop. Shiro’s panic goes still. Everything quiets in his head, and control is his. All his.“Do you think me an idiot, Champion?” Terkon sneers, digging his claws in a little harder to the armor, leaving deeper gouges. “You always fought hardest when you were desperate. Did you think I wouldn’t know you’d strike? Did you think I don’t remember your every attack pattern? Did you think you could tri—“Ryou shoots him.

This is basically the culmination of the whole theme of the story. There were 3 goals with this story’s theme:

Give Ryou an opportunity to be the protective one, since until this point the entire team, and Shiro specifically, has been protective (or overprotective) of Ryou. I love the Ryou whump, but also I needed to give him a moment in which he was strong, and could protect Shiro from something that Shiro could never handle and the rest of the team could never understand.

Give Ryou a chance to actually use his chameleon skills and his ability to mimic Shiro. Most of the series until that point has been Ryou struggling to understand his place in the world and who he really is. Most of those conclusions in prior stories summed up to ‘I am my own person, but ‘my own person’ does include a lot of things in common with Shiro, and that’s ok.’ I needed a place for that to pay off, and to prove that this was a choice of his that was good and had value, and this was it

Give Ryou a chance to prove that for all his mimicking skills, he is the only one that can handle this fight because he is so different from Shiro on a fundamental level now, even if he still struggles with understanding or accepting that sometimes. The memories he has from Shiro have mostly been given a degree of separation from him now, due to some of the brain damage associated with his failsafe illness. Sure, there are probably still a few memories in his mind that were not affected and still feel like 100% his, but those are few and far between. As horrible as that situation was, something good did come out of it, because he’s able to look at Shiro’s memories objectively, understand and learn from them, but not be paralyzed by them.

All 3 of these goals come together at once in this final scene when he defeats Terkon. He’s no-holds-barred destroying Terkon for messing with his predecessor so he’s being protective. He uses his ability to mimic and play a role other people want to see to maneuver Terkon into a position where he can bring him down immediately. And Terkon can’t torment him like he did Shiro, because Ryou knows what to expect but isn’t affected like Terkon intends, with fear and horror and guilt. Everything Terkon does just makes him more angry and more focused.

The other thing I really wanted to make clear in this scene is how brutally efficient Ryou is when he makes the killing blow. He doesn’t pull his punches (or shots, as it were). He goes straight for a lethal attack. He follows it up two more times without hesitation. He doesn’t bother with dramatics or a snappy one-liner. He absolutely makes sure the job is done, no chance Terkon could still live through it. I wanted the whole thing to be a punch in the gut, and satisfying but in slightly disturbing way. He does the job, but without theatrics.

And the reason for that is because there is a subtle undertone in all of this, which is that Ryou Is Acting Exactly As He Was Designed to. Infiltrate. Find target. Eliminate as efficiently as possible. Cover it up after, don’t leave any evidence. (Terkon never happened). He’s not doing it on Haggar’s orders anymore, and never will again. His targets and his methods are all of his own choosing. But it’s something he learned how to do because he was designed for it, and it’s not a subtle instinct he ever lost. It’s why he tends to prefer the clever, quieter approach to a no-holds-barred attack, because it’s an instinct he’s had since day one. I don’t think Ryou is consciously even aware of this fully; he knows Haggar made him to infiltrate the team and lead them to their doom, and he finds a vindictive satisfaction in turning Haggar’s plans around on the Galra by mimicking Shiro in ways that can be used against them. But her designs were a lot more subtle than anyone realizes, and it’s most obvious in this fic and at this point.

I’m Doing Fanfic Director’s Cuts!

#Velkynkarma answers #Parallel by proxy #shiro #ryou #kuron #the best lies #bosstoaster

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unkooked · 6 years

Text

absolute.

In which love isn’t your strong suit and Jungkook is a philosophy student who believes in fate for the first time in his life. 6,172 words.

[jk is a cute and smart asshole and u are too tired™ for his shit. but u love him i guess lol]

notes: i started writing this in november and finally finished it. a lil angsty, fluffy, fun, etc. i really tried my best to mimic real emotion, as well as struggle. sometimes it’s not easy to give into love. sometimes love is slow. sometimes people change u for the better. this fic gets better!! dont stop after the first part that’s the worst one lol. it’s long but idk maybe you’ll like it, give it a chance :))

What began as the simplest spark of intrigue was rapidly beginning to warp itself within your thoughts and infiltrate your sense of inner peace, not to mention it was spreading with the intensity and conceit of a wild fire. God, you really hadn’t signed up for this.

***

You had seen him once.

The day had been groggier than ever before; skies that mimicked all that was dull and bland showered the ground beneath with a potency that seemed absolutely endless. The air was damp, and cold, and gut-wrenching, and though the city seemed to be screaming for even the smallest fraction of salvation, you found yourself in a certain sense of tranquility. And perhaps your day would’ve continued its soothing calm, that is, had you not decided to wear flip-flops on your commute to work.

“Mom, why’s that lady wearing pink slippers? She looks like a clown.” The voice of the little boy on the subway could he heard from across the train, and as soft giggles escaped the mouths of those around you, what some people may consider irrationality began to kick in.

You’d woken up at 5am, for God’s sake—you were already running late from the long trial and error you’d suffered through with the new makeup set you’d bought. As simple as it sounded, you were tired. And the flip-flops were comfortable. To wear real shoes meant putting on a pair of socks, and high heels would only result in endless groaning and a marathon of foot cramps. Really, you were just trying to protect yourself. And what was wrong with that? Couldn’t people judge others from the ankles up? Wasn’t this the home of the free? Whatever happened to national security?

You couldn’t imagine what horrid expression was etched upon your face, and quite frankly, you didn’t want to. But it must have been something truly revolutionary as the young man across from you couldn’t seem to control his shameless snickering.

This is when the irrationality seemed to be coming back to you. Maybe if you just ignored him, he’d piss off. Looking at him meant acknowledging his existence. Looking at him meant losing. But then he laughed again—and your eyes couldn’t help but catch a glimpse at his shadowy figure. And as much as you wanted your curiosity to yield just this once, you felt almost at ease that it hadn’t.

He was breathtaking . . . and annoying. Mostly annoying.

His eyes were sultry and dark in colour, the way the corners of his mouth dipped upward slightly was adorable. Had the loud laughter not fallen once again from his lips, perhaps you would have found yourself staring at him for eternity. Or, that is, until your stop. You tried to avert your eyes, but suddenly the details of the whole situation started getting fuzzy, and his laugh might have been annoying, but damn, his smile was adorable. Handsome asshole.

Your mind was screaming at you. Look away. Look away. Look away.

But how could you tear your eyes away from a man that seemingly embodied both the fatality of eloquence and the beauty of self assurance. His presence was admittedly mesmerizing, and you would be lying if you said he didn’t have all your attention.

“Angry?” His voice rang softy.

You looked upward. Did he just say something? The sound overthrew your thoughts. Why were you angry again?

“Are you angry?” He repeated with a hint of amusement. “You know, at that kid?”

Right. That’s why. The brat.

“Incredibly.” You weren’t thinking. “This is slander.”

“Slander?” He was incredulous, and you were an idiot. “He’s like 6.”

Great. Now it looked like you hated kids.

“Yeah-Well… maybe he shouldn’t be saying things like that.”

He threw his head back against his seat and let out the smallest of laughs. Was it crazy to say it sounded melodic?

“You’re funny.”

“You’re perfect.” The words had left your mouth before your brain could even register the repercussions. His face had started with confusion, but was quickly twisting into something reminiscent of a smile. Before he could even ask, you leapt out of your seat and rushed toward the subway door. He seemed like he was going to follow, you shouted before he could even try.

“Sorry! This is my stop!” You were lying of course. But you couldn’t let him bother you.

Getting off one stop early and walking the rest of the way to work wasn’t nearly as overwhelming as suffocating in the discomfort of that conversation. For the first time in ten minutes, it felt like you could breathe. The subway was confined embarrassment, an utter death zone. But Manhattan was as Manhattan always is in the fall; filled to the brim and drowning in rain.

If you were lucky, maybe you would drown too.

***

“You’re being dramatic.” Jessie etched mockingly, driving the night forward with a phrase you felt like you had heard for the umpteenth time.

“I’m not, Jess! I’m serious! It was completely embarrassing; I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Professor Frouckner went off on me because I was so late. I ran to class in flip flops. During a torrential downpour. Don’t you understand the pain I just went through? I-I could have frostbite for God sake. Or, or died, even!” At this point, you were flailing your arms in front of her face. There was a point to be made. Jessie just threw her head back laughing and rolled her eyes.

She reached across the table and grabbed your hand.

“Yeah. Okay, so 1. You’re drunk. 2. You’re crazy. And 3, I’m gonna have to ask you to turn it down, sweetheart. Because that’s not at all how frostbite works.”

“I’m a law student; I don’t need to know the nitty gritty details on frostbite, okay? Hop off my dick.”

“Wow. He changed you!” Jess replied in between giggles. You pursed your lips and took another swig of the drink in front of you. “What are you, [Y/N], a twelve year old boy? “Hop off my dick”, who the fuck says stuff like that? Are you okay? I’m concerned.”

The club was new and hot and bustling with students from all over campus, and therefore, the music was so loud, it was credulously easy tuning out Jess’ mom lecture.

“Maybe he drugged you,” her voice droned on. “Did he pass you a mysterious liquid?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, and before you could even begin to respond to the utter nonsense she seemed to be spewing, you saw the one person that had left you so mortified to begin with. The exact person you had gone out with Jess to forget about. Irony is a bitch.

A small gasp left your mouth as your throat began to grow dry. Immediately, you averted your gaze to the utensils on the table and pulled her in closer.

“Jess, stop talking. Now!” You whisper shouted, trying to hide your face from the intrusive stranger. Why was he here? Did he want to make your life hell? Did God think this was a funny trick?

“And now you’ve become rude too!” She continued. “Wow. I really hate this guy. Who does he think he is, honestly, he’s completely taken over your persona-,” before she could go on, you grabbed her hand and gestured behind her.

“He’s here!” You groaned aloud.

“He’s what?!” Jessie whipped her head around and gasped. She turned back to you with wide eyes and a wider smile to match. “He’s hot? You didn’t tell me, he was hot! Ohmygod, this is exactly what you need. A cute boy to distract you from your life problems!”

“Jessie, he is my life problem! Now stop looking at him! He’s gonna notice us!” You replied sharply, using your margarita to cover your face.

“I can’t help it. He’s so good looking. Why aren’t you more excited? This is fate, [Y/N]. Did you read your romance horoscope this morning? This is your man! How are you not gawking at him right now?”

“Jessie. Stop. Staring,” you grit through clenched teeth.

His eyes flickered to your table and you nearly felt your heart drop to the pits of your stomach.

“He can tell! He can totally tell! Look somewhere else, you jerk!”

“God, you’re so dramatic! The only way he’d be able to see us right now if I stood up and shouted at him from across the room.”

Her face twisted into a crooked smile and immediately you felt your stomach clench and your eyes widen.

“Jessie,” you tried to reason. Key word, tried. “Please don’t do this.”

“You, my friend, need to face your fears!”

“Jess, please, please don’t, don’t do it plea-,” your pleas had started, only to be ignored and replaced with the loud booming of Jessie’s voice over the music.

“Hey! Subway boy! Look over here! It’s her! From the Subway! This morning?! You remember? You’re cute! Come over here!”

You tried to jump from the chair and make a run for it but Jess grabbed onto your hand a second faster. “You’re unbelievable,” you hissed.

“You’re gonna love me for this one day. The day I introduced you to your husband!” She had a dopey smile on her face. You felt like jumping into a volcano.

“I already met him.” You shot back in frustration. “And it was bad enough the first time!”

“Well, you better shake that off, because he’s coming this way.”

“You’ve got to be joking.” You peered through the hair on your face and knitted your eyebrows in agony.

“And, I, am gonna head towards the bar. I’ll leave you two love birds alone, you know,” she winked. “To . . . get to know each other a little better.”

“Jess. Don’t leave me here. I will kill you. I’m serious. Not an ounce of me is joking right now. I will literally-,”

“Erhhh.” She interrupted. “Wrong answer. I’ll see you later babe! The bar is calling!”

Before the string of curse words were even registered in your brain, you felt the smallest of taps on your shoulder.

Great. Now, this, was going to be an experience.

***

“Hi.”

You gulped before turning around.

As you met eyes, you almost felt your voice catch itself in your throat again. He looked just as beautiful as he had this morning, his hair playfully swayed over his forehead and his eyes continuously peering into your own. While you seemed to be feeling apprehensive and unsure, he seemed to emit the absolute opposite.

In fact, he seemed to be glowing.

His eyes were wide and warm, welcoming even. His lips were turned upwards, adorning that same irritating smirk you had caught a glimpse of earlier in the day. There was nothing to say about his appearance other than the blatant obvious. He was absolutely gorgeous.

“H-hi,” you drew out, slowly. Your stomach was turning in its anxious wake, but also, you realized, excitement.

“I’m Jungkook.” He reached his hand out.

Handshake? Who handshakes? That’s just weir-

“Or perfect. I mean, you can call me that if you like it better.” He quipped with a smug smile stretched across his face. You wanted to punch it off. Or kiss him. Either, or.

“You know,” the confidence in your voice surprised even yourself. “I thought you were handsome for about two seconds just now.”

The small smirk on his lips began to grow larger as he raised a single brow back at you.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You repeated, crossing your arms and leaning back into the loft chair.

“What changed?”

You scrunched up your nose for dramatic effect. Because, clearly, theatrics were always important. You tilted your face slightly to the left. Jungkook waited in obvious anticipation, watching him squirm was almost amusing.

“You opened your mouth.”

Jungkook feigned hurt. He pretended to wince and held a hand to his chest, all whilst trying to shake off his laughter.

“Ouch!” He exclaimed. “You’re really out for blood, here, aren’t you? Are you always this . . .,” he struggled to find the right word.

“Witty?” You posed. “Hilarious? Eccentric? Creative? I think you’re definitely looking for creative.”

“Hmm. I was actually thinking bitchy.” He shrugged. Then he cracked that annoying smirk. God, you were really starting to hate that.

“Me? I’m a bitch? You’re the bitch!”

And that’s when he started laughing hysterically.

“Why are you laughing? You think this is funny, huh? You just call girls over; call them bitches and you feel happy with yourself?”

He put a finger up in his defense. “Actually, babe, you called me over here.”

Now, that, crossed a line.

“Don’t call me babe.” You grit. Who the fuck did this guy think he was?

“Chill out,” he rolled his eyes. “It’s a term of endearment. Have you ever heard of that word? You know, love, compassion, empathy? Are you familiar with any of those concepts?”

“Shut up, you asshole! I know love, okay? I’m not a dear person in your life, so-,” hop off my dick? “So just lay off.” You finished.

He nodded. “Yeah, well, not yet anyway.”

You felt like scoffing into oblivion. “Oh, you think you’re smooth, huh? You think you can just walk in here and say some douche-bag line you’ve prepared and it’s just gonna work out and I’m just gonna fall in love with you? Are you insa-,” before the final syllable left your mouth, Jess had already barged herself into the conversation.

“How’s it going lovebirds?” She chirped loudly, glaring at you with an intensity you’ve never quite seen before.

“Amazing.”

“Terrible.”

“Alright,” she clapped. “That’s what I like to hear!”

Jungkook moved toward Jess and put a single hand on her shoulder. He cracked a smile at you then looked back at her. “You know, I think your friend is really falling for me.”

“I’m going to PUNCH YOU-,” Jess clamped a hand over your mouth and began laughing awkwardly, threatening with her gaze alone whilst Jungkook stayed snickering in the corner.

“Don’t worry about her, she gets a little carried away when she’s drunk.” Jess was trying to diffuse the situation as much as she could, an attempt to put Jungkook at ease and save her friend’s reputation.

Little did she know, Jungkook wasn’t in distress. Not at all, quite frankly.

In fact, he was amused. This night had been more eventful than any night he’d had in the past couple weeks, most of which, were being spent preparing for his philosophy final he’d taken this morning. He’d seen a girl this morning on the way to his exam, a girl wearing ridiculously hideous pink flip flops. It had been enough to make him crack a smile and forget the weight on his shoulders that seemingly did not falter. For a few minutes, it had felt like his sole purpose was to sit there and laugh at her, as incredibly moronic as it sounded. But then again, he was taking philosophy. Analyzing life had singlehandedly take over his life. And this, as bizarre as it was, felt something reminiscent of a good omen. Maybe he was dreaming. But then again, dreams were good, weren’t they?

So when Jess awkwardly tried to mend the pieces of their chaotic conversation, he could only smile. And this time, it wasn’t his cheap and snarky way of making her blood boil. Rather, it was a sentiment of his curiosity. He didn’t know what would become of this, but he was more than willing to find out. This, her, it was something worth his attention. It was something that would blossom: for better or worse, at this point, he couldn’t tell. But he couldn’t help but be invested.

Jungkook wanted nothing more than to burst out laughing at her unfaltering insult slinging and boldly express his admiration for her; he wanted to tell her he liked this. That is, whatever this was. But something told him his growing optimism would be forced to undergo a series of pessimistic trials, i.e., her.

He liked her. He knew it. He didn’t want to believe in heavenly signs from the universe; he didn’t believe in love at first sight or in destiny or even soul mates, for that matter. Those things weren’t real, to him. Those were idealisms, thoughts, beliefs, they could be nurtured and mirrored and amplified, but they weren’t tangible. But this was something different. The quickening of his pulse was real, the escalades in his stomach were real, and the constant scrutinizing of what he said or what he did was real. To Jungkook, this wasn’t just an empty call from the universe meant to send a message. It was like a force of energy that beckoned him to take things a step further and pushed him to take action. He was more sure now than ever, that this, was a brutal awakening for was to come in the near future.

And so, he would wait.

He would play along. He would be the guy he needed to. He would do whatever it took to carry through this relationship and allow it to flourish the way it needed. Because this was deserving. Not to mention, annoying the shit out of her found itself to be an extremely entertaining past time.

Jungkook kept his smile tight. “Don’t worry about it.” He was quick to respond though his thoughts resonated somewhere else, somewhere deeper and distant. “I can’t judge the unstable, can I?” Then he winked.

“Unstable?” She bellowed incredulously. “Do you ever shut up? Were you given love as a child?”

Jungkook wanted to throw his head back and laugh at the girl’s coherently bizarre behaviour, but the thought of getting decked in the face wasn’t so appealing, and so, he decided to take a more cautious route.

“Goodnight, [Y/N].”

He could hear her faint ramblings even as he as he was slowly walking away from the girls, letting lose the smirk that had begged so desperately to reveal itself, and for the time in a long time, he felt a shift of anxiety in his stomach. What, exactly, was this? Was it too soon to set his heart on her? Definitely.

Jungkook hadn’t the smallest clue what was going on. But as much as this circumstance screamed dysfunction, there was an underlying sense of comfort that pulled him toward her, exhilaration, even. He wasn’t poetic or neurotic or an even a romantic, for that matter, and even in his second year of philosophy, Jungkook hadn’t thought of his life objectively, nor did he believe in fate. But this feeling he felt, this rush, this spurt of adrenaline, this beating of his chest, the sweating of his palms, the sheer intensity of his apprehension, this feeling held so much uncertainty—and yet—and yet the worlds fell so freely, and loosely, and smoothly from his mouth. He knew what to say, always. But how? How, when he was feeling somewhere between riding the best roller coaster of his life and walking a tight rope over impending chaos. His mind was blazing, stressing, obsessing; searching for meaning in the midst of the madness that had now become his life. Perhaps there was none.

Perhaps not.

“So you’re just going to ignore me? I am literally sitting right beside you.”

“You don’t exist.”

“I definitely do.”

“Well, if I continue to pretend like you don’t exist, there’s got to be some truth to it, right?”

“No. Literally not at all. Have you heard of science, or-,”

“Shut up. Just shut up. Okay? You… you nerd.” The very little patience you had started your day with immediately began to grow weak. Firstly, thanks to the disgustingly painful hangover you were powering through, and second, well, Jungkook seemed to be making grandiose contributions to the irritability department.

“Wow. I think I’ve finally cracked the case, ha, get it? ‘Cause you’re in law?” Jungkook stifled one of his infamous laughs and regained his composure. “Yeah, anyways, you’re insane.”

“Thank you, Jungkook. You know what? That really pulls together a lot of missing pieces in my life. Thank you for your service. Goodbye.”

Jungkook ignored your attempts at escaping the conversation and averted his attention toward the subway.

“Hey, this is your stop right?”

Shit.

There was no way you were going to resurface the same havoc from getting off a stop early yesterday, not after Mr. Frouckner had torn you a new asshole with his mindless droning about punctuality.

“No, actually. The next stop is,” you coughed awkwardly. “…my stop.” Maybe if you spoke quietly, he wouldn’t catch on. That was your best bet.

“So…you lied yesterday.”

Best bet shot down. Nice to know the universe was on your side.

The blatant delight in Jungkook’s voice made the pits of your stomach churn. He was never going to let go of this. In fact, this is probably exactly what he yearned for: another instance he could mock and chastise you for. This was probably Jungkook’s ultimate dream.

“So I guess I left a stunning impression on you, huh?” You fought the urge to throw your bag at his stupid mouth.

“You know what?” You pursed your lips and looked outside the window. “Actually, this is my stop.”

The corners of Jungkook’s mouth were so often turned upwards, a surge of confusion went through you when you noticed his lips had gone from its usual crooked smile to somewhat of a pressed frown.

For a second, all you could do was look at him.

His eyes were narrowed slightly and he bit the inside of his cheek. His seconds of contemplation were enough to leave your stomach bouncing against itself.

“You can’t just walk away from your feelings.”

Jungkook’s eyes peered into your very own in a way that was utterly intrusive. His hair was tussled and messy, his skin shining behind the beams of fluorescent lights. Even with the simple pessimistic thoughts and urges of aggravation, your heart gravitated toward the soft echo of his voice. In a different world, maybe you could love this. In a different world, maybe you would overcome this constant constriction, this widespread fear that always seemed to manifest itself into every fragment of your life. This was new. He was new. He was different. Maybe you could trust him.

With a single step upward and the swaying of your body, you turned toward the subway doors and gulped.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Maybe it wasn’t time to take chances.

“You’re going to this party.”

“Jessie. You’re my love, I love you, okay? But no. Definitely not.”

Jessie rolled her eyes for the thousandth time, and she paced through your room once more, arms folded across her chest with a clear motive on her mind.

“Well, Jungkook’s going to be there,” her voice rang coyly, and she gave you a sideways glance, hoping to lock you in her gaze and use her amazing powers of persuasion.

But your eyes were purposefully glued to the computer screen in front of you.

Jungkook’s name made your fingers tense, and instead of looking at your bestfriend and telling her you might have been feeling your heart shifting for a boy, you kept your eyes straight and kept your words short.

“Not interested, Jess. Next time.”

If human beings could display their emotions based on colour, you swore Jess was blazing and fiery red, as she shrieked in annoyance once again, throwing herself on your bed and screaming into one of your pillows.

“I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“No, I’m not, bitch. I hate you, you’re the worst.”

“Jess—you know I don’t like parties okay? This doesn’t have anything to do with anything else—,”

“Anyone, you mean,” she corrected matter-of-factly.

You were almost compelled to pick up one of the pillows behind your back, and launch it at her face at 800 miles per hour. But, the thought quickly vanished, because you’re a merciful human being that believes in second chances.

“I’m going to ignore that because I think you’re going through a hard time,” you whispered while patting her back, and Jessie hissed into your pillows. Maybe she was going to hit you with a pillow at 800 miles per hour.

“[Y/N], stop playing dumb, okay? You know exactly who I’m talking about.”

God, when was this fucker going to stop being the highlight of all your personal conversations. You threw your head back and groaned.

“When are you going to understand that I don’t have feelings for him?!”

“When you can fucking go somewhere he’s gonna be at, without having a mental break, you shady bitch!”

Fuck it.

“Fine, I’m going!”

“Fine!”

Jessie let out a laugh, and you soon followed, why did boys always make things so difficult?

“I’ll pick you up at 7.”

“I fucking hate you.”

Yup. This was really happening.

“This place smells like fucking paradise.” You marveled at the immense expanse of broadly lit rooms and expensive luxury all around you. So this is what it’s like to get a sports car for your fifteenth birthday.

“Rich people, man.” Jessie shook her head and grabbed a drink off the stretch of wooden table, taking a large sip, and then placing it back down.

The house belonged to a friend’s of a friend’s of a friend’s, and it was by far the biggest house you’d ever stepped into in your entire life. It looked like it was something out of an elaborate Parisian getaway, but the crowds of drunken people swaying anything but rhythmically to Lil Pump made it more than clear that this was the epitome of college parties.

The dress you were wearing was Jess’, and it was itchy, bodycon, and far too thin to keep anybody warm on any winter night. But, it made you feel good, and so you supposed that was the most important thing as you walked across the house’s wide and echoing halls, anxious from the stares of those around you.

“Don’t look now,” Jessie whispered into your ear, and of course, immediately your head whipped around opposite of her direction to see what she was talking about. Or who, rather.

Fuck.

“I told you NOT to look. What part of that did you NOT understand?!”

“I was nervous okay?! Who doesn’t look in that situation?!”

“Well, you don’t have time to freak out, Jungkook’s coming this way right now.” Jess let out the words nonchalantly as she grabbed another drink, and as you felt his shadow approaching, you tried your best not to look like the most constipated and fidgety individual in the world.

Was it working? Definitely not.

“I’m gonna be right over there okay,” Jessie whispered gently and gestured toward the doorway right across from you.

“No, no, no, Jess, don’t leave, don’t leave—,”

“Get off me, I have to, he’s coming—,”

“Don’t leave—,”

“Stop I’m going—,”

You felt a gentle tap on your shoulder, as Jess slyly tottered away in her slightly tipsy state and shot you a not so secret wink. Great.

“Hi,” Jungkook’s breath hit your neck, and you felt your throat become tight. When you turned around to glance at him, you realized he looked a little different. His hair looked longer, darker, shinier, the skin along his cheeks and forehead were glossy and tanned, his complexion was slightly flushed, and yet the golden undertones were enough to bring you back to your summer classes, half spent avoiding Jungkook on the subway. The troubled look in his eyes, the eyes that you had been looking away from for months, was enough to make you feel regret. He looked so happy always, and yet the subtle pain you could feel from his expression made you feel like the wicked enchantress in any cliché fairytale. He was pretty enough to be a prince, you thought.

“Why have you been avoiding me?”

His words broke your trance. And yes, it was a trance. Because just like you remembered it, looking at Jungkook was not simply looking at any kindred spirit looking for a purpose in life, looking at Jungkook felt like a purpose. And as ridiculous as it sounded, you thought it was worth it.

“I-I haven’t.” You spoke as firmly as you could, but he didn’t seem convinced, you could tell. And it was now more than ever that you wished you could lie as well as everybody else, or be as bold as half the kids that were at this stupid party, or flirt as eloquently as Jess. But you couldn’t, and he knew. He knew.

“Are you ever going to give this a chance?” He asked, and you could hear how desperate he was. It burned. You felt your throat closing, more. Was that possible?

“Give what a chance?”

“This, [Y/N]. Us. Are you ever going to stop avoiding me, avoiding your feelings for me, avoiding potential? Y-you’re a part of my life. You’ve been a part of my life for months. Why are you running away?” Jungkook’s eyes bore into yours. He was waiting for an answer. You wanted to give him an answer.

This isn’t what you were used to. This was foreign. This warm feeling that crept up your sides and held you sharply like a paralyzing embrace, this sweep of heat that fell over your cheeks and made your jaw slack, this cloud of beautiful iridescence that made your pupils shake, that stole your gaze, that forced your gaze—upon him. You couldn’t think, and the droning of the voices around you only made the burning sensation in your heart worse.

“I-I need to go,” you mumbled rapidly, grabbing your clutch and shuffling out the veranda door across the hall; refusing to look back at the boy that stole your dreams and made your being quake.

You needed to go.

“[Y/N]!”

“I-I wasn’t meant for relationships, Jungkook. Just drop it.”

“How do you know that? You’ve never given yourself the fucking chance!” Jungkook shot back. The intensity in his eyes ran shivers down your spine. This was breaking him, you were breaking him. This is exactly the reason why you wanted to stay away.

“I’m just not a “love” person, okay?” You pleaded.

“Yeah, I think I’ve picked that up by now.”

“Jungkook don’t make this harder than it already is. Don’t you have something better to be doing right now, something other than harassing me? ”

“Why do you keep pushing me away? Why don’t you trust me?”

“Why can’t you just drop it?!”

Jungkook’s eyes blazed deeply into yours, frustration evident in his face. He must’ve been worn out to the absolute max, and yet there was a still a sense of determination that lingered within him.

He stepped forward and drew a breath.

“Because,” his voice broke. Your heart clenched.

“Because every single time I walk away from you, I get this splitting, fucking avalanche of thoughts, that keep asking over and over and over again: ‘why did you fucking let her go? There’s something here’.”

“I feel this hollowness; because I know you. I’ve seen what life is like with you. And it’s better. It’s so much better than anything I’ve ever had, any relationship I’ve ever made. How am I supposed to just walk away and pretend like you didn't change things? When I know we have something other people wait their whole fucking lives for? When I know there’s something here? Leaving this unresolved like this is eating away at me, [Y/N]. It fucking hurts being around you knowing you don’t want the same thing. But I’m an idiot, alright? Does that make you happy? I stick around, thinking that maybe one day, something will change. That maybe one day, you’ll look at me and admit to yourself that you have feelings. Because I know you do, [Y/N]. Because I don’t think we met for no reason. Because for the time in my fucking life I believe in fate, and it’s not fucking working out and its making me go crazy. So you know what? I am sorry, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I made this mess, but I don’t regret it. And I never fucking will.”

Frozen.

Your body had fallen completely frozen.

The growing discomfort in your stomach had become entirely unbearable, Jungkook let out a staggered breath as your heart beat accelerated; icy chill after icy chill continued to make way down your spine, to the point at which it felt there was a constant outpour of frost at the small of your back. This was sickening. This was torturous. This was gut-wrenching. Though the words felt so soft and easy and comforting in your mouth, the thought of the world they would awaken left you aching to your core. You cared for him. You cared for him so, so much. He was the mirage at the end of a desert of relationships that all seemed to either dry out or suck the life out of you. Though your mind begged for reason and practicality, your heart yearned for the potential of something absolutely breath-taking. Because he, was absolutely breath-taking. And a world without him, well, that wasn’t a life you thought you were prepared for.

Jungkook stood in front of you, running a hand through his hair and catching one last glimpse at the girl he swore was the absolute love of his life. He wasn’t prepared to say goodbye, and yet there he stood, mind flooded with outcomes he couldn’t completely fathom, and most of them, admittedly bad.

He turned around.

If you continued to live your life the way you always had, cautious, safe, you could protect yourself from torment and heartbreak and destruction. If you continued to live your life the way you always had, you’d be able to carry out the rationality of life, the logic, the sensibility.

If you continued to live your life the way you always had, nothing would ever change.

You grabbed his wrist.

“I love you.”

“You—what?” His eyes were almost glossy, and the fleet of stomping elephants in your stomach suddenly felt less overbearing than the pounding in your chest.

You gulped.

“I love you. A-and you, you’re making me go crazy. And I’m not. I’m normal you know! I’m not crazy! It’s you! You’re doing this! You’re making me insane. I-I-you- you-,” your chest heaved. “You’re changing me!”

“Okay.”

“Okay? That’s all you have to fucking say right now? Really? Are you fucking serious I’m gonna—,”

“Okay.”

His mouth twitched. He looked like he was smiling. God, you wanted to punch that smile off his lip. But God, you couldn’t stop staring.

Jungkook bit his lip, the whiplash of emotions almost making him nauseous. He had just gone from complete frustration and dismay, to utter exhilaration; euphoria. All the while, you couldn’t keep your eyes off the soft pink silhouette of his mouth.

Stop looking at his lips.

God, who fucking cares.

The first thing you did was drop your clutch. Jungkook quipped an eyebrow and his smirk stuck firmly, and you wondered how it would change when you wrapped your arms thickly around his neck and finally attached your chapped and dry lips to his admittedly adorable and absolutely plump lips.

And so you did.

You launched forward and roughly took his lips in yours, and though Jungkook could feel every muscle in his body tensing, the feeling immediately flood away in a single rush of elation that allowed him to smile onto your mouth. Jungkook felt tentative, but the steady pressure of his kiss alongside the gentle caressing of his lips had your fingers shaking. He cupped your cheeks, and squished them endearingly before finally pulling away, lips promiscuously crimson and face flushed. Your noses brushed against each other, and the sheer cliché of the situation made your stomach clench.

Jungkook let out a boisterous laugh as you shut your eyes tightly and then opened them up again.

“So you like me, huh?”

And the smirk sitting on his lips this time filled your heart with the same aggravation that seemed to consume you so naturally, and just as strongly, was the temptation to kiss his annoying lips again just to shut him up.

“Fuck off Jungkook.”

“I’m just asking.”

“I’m just gonna kill you.”

And again he laughed, and you laughed with him. And though the idea of love and relationships and fate and everlasting romance never seemed to rapture your soul the way you often wished it had—though the thought of fate and eternity seemed far away and barely tangible—you ignored your fear of every hurtful past and any spiteful future, and thought now, in this moment, a future with Jungkook was absolute. You hoped.

((if u made it this far, thank u and have a lovely day u beautiful person!!! ily)

#bts scenarios #jungkook scenario #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts #bangtan #bangtan scenarios #bts fluff #bts angst #bts fic #fanfic #if u dont like it #give me a like anyways #self esteem boost

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