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lixzey · 7 months

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Letters.

tw: mentions of self harm and self hate

The Ninth Letter.

It was a long shot, but Timothée knew he had to. He had to find her. It surprised him, just how much he cared for this girl. He didn't know her, but he was desperate to find her—to understand her. Timothée felt a sense of loyalty to her, vowing to finish her letters one by one—and not skipping to the end. Sure, he could save a lot of time if he'd just go on and skip to the last letter. But that felt like betraying Y/N—as if it was skipping to know the person who'd poured her heart out in the last eight letters.

Timothée sighed, before closing his laptop and putting it away. He was in a meeting with the private investigator he had just hired two days ago. The trail was undoubtedly cold—because the only clue they had was the stamps on Y/N's letters. Still, the young actor wasn't going to give up that easily. He picked up the next letter and ripped it open. It was dated July 27th, 2023.

Dear Timothée,

Don't kill the butterfly,

That's what I heard the girl whispering beside me while I waited outside of my therapist's office. It was a year ago, when I started with Julie. I'd been staring at her, not realizing she was muttering something onto her shaking hands. A whisper, so quiet that I would've missed it if I hadn't been looking at her like an animal at a zoo. She was repeating it again and again, “Don't kill the butterfly.” like some sort of mantra.

At first, it seemed strange. Because she had a butterfly drawn in black ink on the back of her hand—it wasn't a tattoo—it was smudged, clearly drawn on with a pen. It wasn't until I asked her and realized what the butterfly was.

It's called The Butterfly Effect, and it's to help people who self harm—people like me. The idea is that every time a person wants to cut, they would draw a butterfly on their wrist and name it after a loved one. You have to let the butterfly fade, and if you cut, the butterfly dies.

I felt terrible. I've been killing the butterfly, over and over again.

The next session I had, I asked Julie about the girl—her name was Jane—and when I realized what had happened to her…..Let's just say, I haven't seen anyone so brave.

I feel like a mistake. A waste of space. If I was brave enough, I'd already done it, but I hadn't. Who knows? Maybe someday, I can and I'll be free from all the bullshit of my life. Or, I'm just taking my time.

Why am I even still writing to you? I feel like an idiot, wasting my money to get stamps, to send these fucking letters you won't ever read. But what if you are? Maybe you're reading my letters, reading how my life is hell.

Anyways, I stapled a photo of myself at the end of this letter. I know, I know, I'm an ugly piece of shit. Not like the girls in Hollywood—not like fucking Kylie Jenner. How do I even compete with her? Next to her, I look like a potato with eyes.

Maybe, just maybe…..

But I don't want to get my hopes up.

I don't know what to believe in, honestly.

All my love,

Y/N.

Timothée stared at the photo, a beautiful girl was staring back at him—she had mesmerizing (y/e/c) eyes and long beautiful (y/h/c) hair. She was smiling. As if she wasn't the girl who wrote the letters he had read. He quickly snapped the photo and sent it to the private investigator.

Timothée didn't know why she called herself ugly. Does she even look at herself in the mirror? She was beautiful, the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

“Stay with me, Y/N. I'm going to find you, even if it's the last thing I do.”

@lovemelikecrazyiloveyoucrazy @helens3amstuff @gatoenlaciudad

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lilmeowmeow04 · 10 months

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🧁Pretty Flower🧁

*wc*493

*Pairing* little reader and cg hyunjin

*note* I am not stealing work this is from my other tumblr @lilquokka04 im moving my little space fics here. ♡

"Daddy! Look at what I drew!" You had just finished drawing a picture of a flower that you really wanted to show Hyunjin, so you ran into the bedroom to show him the picture. He was sitting on the bed working on his laptop when you ran in and jumped on the bed. He looked up and smiled at you, putting his laptop down so you could crawl into his lap. "Look at what I did!" You pulled up your drawing and put it in front of his face. Hyunjin laughed and grabbed the paper from your hands, flipping it around so that it was upright. "You drew this princess? Wow, you're even better than I am!" You giggled as your cheeks turned pink. "Nooo daddy is much better than I am, but maybe I can be as good as you someday!"

Hyunjin thought you were absolutely adorable. The way that you got all excited about showing him your drawings and wanting him to compliment what you drew. He especially loved when you would crawl in his lap like this, when you would get all clingy towards him. He liked that you trusted him the way that you did, how comfortable you were around him."I drew it for you! You said you loved this flower right?" Hyunjin melted at how sweet you were, remembering a flower that he had pointed out at a garden the other day. He couldn't help but want to smother you in affection.

He wrapped you up in a hug as he kissed your forehead. "Thank you princess, I'll have a place in my room just for your pretty drawings." You giggled at his words, rubbing your face into his chest before you looked up at his face, pouting. "Can I see your drawings again?" You had always loved seeing Hyunjin's art and had this habit of checking his sketchbook everytime he came back home, wanting to see what he drew while he was away. "Of course baby." You squealed in excitement as you jumped out of his lap and ran to the desk where his sketchbook was. You grabbed it and ran back to the bed, rushing to to sit in Hyunjin's lap again.

You opened it to a drawing that you hadn't seen before and started to study it, running your fingers across it. Hyunjin smiled down at you as he rested his head on top of yours. He watched as you flipped through his new drawings, making little comments about how much you loved them and which one was your new favorite. "How about I fill up a sketchbook just for you, hmm? That way you can look at it anytime you want." You gasped "Really daddy? I would have an entire book with your drawings in it?!" You turned around to press little kisses all over his face as you said I love you over and over again.

#I wrote this before i even knew about littlespace🥲#Even then i always had these thoughts of skz as caregivers❤️‍🩹#They truly are the best #I always thought it would be fun to show jinnie all of my art #An he could pay my head and tell me what a good job i did💔#Skz fluff #Hyunjin fluff #agere #Caregiver skz #Little space #Sfw #Hyunjin cg #Little reader

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tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 2 years

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Memo that I need to write to my supervisor right now, as I sit in the office of the building where I'm doing my work program, there are no clients here today so I'm doing admin: I realize this is by far the easiest day I've had here, getting to just sit with my laptop instead of actually doing things with clients, and I appreciate having this nicely quiet day, so I really hate to complain. But you see, while I sit here doing fairly mindless admin, I've been listening to a podcast called The Bugle. I just got into episode 251, from November 2013.

In this episode, John Oliver has announced that he will soon be leaving The Daily Show and will host his own show on Sundays, and announced it with so little fanfare that I had to run the episode back a bit to make sure he had actually just announced Last Week Tonight and not one gig he'd be doing some Sunday in Chicago or whatever. This came after several episodes in a row of him sounding increasingly weary and hopeless about the soulessness of world, even by John Oliver standards, often either forgetting to laugh at Andy Zaltzman's cleverly written flights of fancy, or doing that sort of despair-filled laugh that people do when what they mean is "I don't have the capacity to feel genuine mirth right now, but thank you for saying that funny thing, I needed the distraction." It appears that this has finally become too much, and he's taken the news that anyone wanted to give him his own show as final proof that there is nothing here worth saving.

John Oliver often expresses hopelessness along these lines, and I normally operate with the assumption that he's at least somewhat exaggerating his genuine frustration for comedic effect, because that's funny and adds to the show. But at this point, I'm pretty sure no part of it is exaggerated, since it's actually detracting from the show, with Andy desperately trying to keep the light alive with puns and bullshit while John can barely pretend there's anything funny about anything. It may have been exaggerated once, but he has now committed to the bit so hard that the bit itself is just a distant memory.

This has, very unexpectedly, caused an intense wave of an extremely weird mix of nostalgia and depression to hit me, as I remember the simpler yet crumbling times of 2013, the terrifying feeling of facing the unknown both then and now, the rentless inevitability of someday shedding everything you love layer by layer, and how, as they say, you can never go home again. I don't know, the feeling it's inducing is something like that. Hard to really work out while sitting in this office, and that brings me back to the issue at hand. I do think, incidentally, that "You can never go home again" may be the saddest expression in the entire English language. What's the point of anything, then?

The last time listening to The Bugle made me this depressed, I was at least at home, where I could drink whiskey about it. I'm afraid this office is just not the place to process this new situation, so I'd like to depart. Also, I finished all the admin that actually needed to be done about half an hour ago, and am now just drawing things out with makework and writing Tumblr posts on my phone so I can meet the required number of hours in this building. Important work is done here, providing therapy to help autistic kids participate in society, it's much more important than the work of sitting at home feeling weird about a podcast, but that work is not being done today. Maybe let me feel weird now, and I'll come back tomorrow to do things that actually matter.

...Given that sending this memo is not a great option, I'm going to try turning off The Bugle and playing Twilight Zone by Golden Earring on repeat instead.

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