#Like one time my friend committed suicide and I could barely think of anything

[13personalities]

does anyone else ever feel like they have to exaggerate every emotion they have in order to seem like a functioning human being? Like I gotta use dramatic hand signs and dramatic expressions and everything even though I only feel like 15% of the actual emotion.

[theconcealedweapon]

A lot of people say this, but many of them are not the type of people who it's safe to open up to.

What a lot of people don't realize is that suicide is not a light switch. It's often caused by pain that seems survivable at first but over time slowly gets more intense or slowly gets less hopeful for the pain to end. At what point during that timeline is someone considered suicidal? At what point should they open up about it? What happens if they open up too early and it ends up being a false alarm and they worry people for nothing, get accused of exaggerating, or get involuntarily committed to a hospital?

Also, many suicidal people could easily save themselves if they understood exactly why they were suicidal, which means that helping them requires acknowledging that their experience is difficult to explain and not jumping to conclusions. But many people who say that they want to help are often the first to jump to conclusions.

I was suicidal because of a party I was at where someone went out of his way to make it seem like I was bothering anyone I tried to talk to. This would have completely thrown off my ability to read people and made me feel like the world was a better place for people like him than for people like me, which would have been deadly when the pandemic started and the painful memory was combined with the loneliness of the pandemic. Thankfully, when I was about to leave that party, two of my friends reassured me that they loved me and wanted me to stay there. They saved my life. But before I understood what happened, I had very powerful feelings for one of those friends (even without consciously thinking about that party). At first it felt like just a crush, but it was so powerful that I could die from it. The feelings I had for her made perfect sense after I realized that she saved my life, but before then it felt like I had an unhealthy obsession with her. So I tried everything I could think of to get my mind off of her, and nothing worked. Being autistic made it much harder, because understanding my emotions and connecting with other people is much harder for me than it is for the average person.

One time, when I was stoned and saying random things to my sister and my mom, I ended up mentioning how traumatic my experience was for me. In an attempt to explain how traumatic it was and how I had to force myself to do things that my brain was not meant to do, I said that after what I've been through I'd probably be able to solve the feud between my other sister and my cousin.

At no point did I plan to do anything, or think it was a good idea, or want to do it, or think it would be easy. I simply mentioned that as a random hypothetical scenario as a comparison in order to illustrate how difficult my experience was. But my mom and my sister started yelling at me. They went back and forth repeatedly yelling "No" at me, probably about five times each separated by a few seconds each time, while I was sitting there silently trying to figure out what was even happening.

They knew that I have a disability that makes confrontation difficult for me, and they also knew that I was stoned at the time and barely able to hold onto a thought for more than a few seconds. They knew that anything I said was just words put together, and that I was unable to make any sort of plans at the time. But that didn't matter. They still felt the need to massively overpower me just because I mentioned something once that they added a hidden meaning to. For some reason, they just had to interpret "I probably could do this" as "I insist on doing this and I dare you to stop me". And on top of that, explaining why they didn't want me to do it (or what they thought "it" even was) never crossed their mind. They just saw something that seemed like an opportunity to gang up on me and they jumped on it.

And because of that, I could no longer open up to them. I was going through something that was nearly impossible to explain on so many levels. And they showed me that if I open up to them, my first priority has to be analyzing what I say in advance to make sure they don't attack me for it. I was already burning myself out by doing an amount of thinking that my brain was never designed to do, and they made it so I had to do even more thinking in order to stop them from making it worse.

But they're the type of people who would share this photo. They're the type of people who society considers compassionate. They're the type of people who would call themselves "empaths". They're the type of people who would "feel bad" when someone commits suicide. But they're also the worst type of people for any suicidal person to open up to.

If you want suicidal people to open up to you, you have to be a safe person to open up to. Don't jump to conclusions. Don't add hidden meanings to what people say. Don't lock in what people say. Don't try to take over a conversation about other people's experiences. Don't expect to be obeyed. Don't expect quick responses. Don't be more forceful than informative. Don't wait for people to be suicidal to start showing them compassion.

[oddlyhale]

Honestly hale my problem with team rwby and others (especially in volume 7,8 and 9) is the lack of consequences.

I hate how anytime the “heroes” do anything wrong their actions are treated as an afterthought.

Yang and Blake telling a stranger government secrets should have been backlash from that action (no way anyone can convince me that was a good idea)

Yang literally blaming Ruby for messing up in atlas despite telling their plans to a stranger.

Everyone Ignoring ruby’s mental breakdown and when she does commit “suicide”…there is barely any reaction.

Penny’s death treated as a afterthought and never spoken again (I never thought penny would be reduced to this…)

I just want them to learn from their mistakes and get better from it…

Volume 9 feels like the writers saying, "here you go, the biggest punishment the characters could ever face." When, actually, no. It's a filler arc that amounted to nothing because it reset itself.

There's a lot that Ironwood did that the kids stole and "succeeded" with their plans to save Atlas and Mantle. Except, I'm sure he was never planning to drop his city on another city. People want to say his plan of flying away with the Staff is outrageous, but look at what we ended up with instead. Atlas and Mantle are gone. Penny is dead, Ironwood is dead, Cinder got both relics, and Vacuo is seemingly their last hope.

We have to remember that RWBY built their "success" from Ironwood's own plans that he laid out in V7. They took them and were praised like saviors in the V9 epilogue. I always assumed the writing needed to kill James just so that Team RWBY could look like they were the ones who came up with the plans as they went along the Atlas arc.

They really weren't. They were just going along for the ride until they didn't want to anymore.

But that's never going to be resolved because they're being hailed as heroes in the V9 epilogue. The writing has doubled down on their terrible behavior and is rewarding them for causing mayhem. They're not heroes, they're menaces to society. Pray for Theodore.

I think that's what's easy to expect if they do continue with RWBY. Do not expect them to face consequences, because that's not on their agenda. They hafta be heroes and be rewarded for doing the bare minimum. If Theodore has any plans, you can bet he's going down.

Penny's death felt awful the second time, but to now know that Ruby couldn't even be told about her best friend being killed by Jaune feels like the writers are fighting for their lives to protect old man Jaune. Jaune got to scream at Ruby, but Ruby had to stand there and take it while her team just let it happen. I guess WBY felt validated that Jaune was getting heated with Ruby.

The way Penny only showed up as glimpses throughout V9 now feels like the writers were inching towards the idea of revealing Jaune killing her, but they couldn't commit because that wouldn't feel right to make him face consequences, so they just let her face flash here and there without saying much else.

So basically, bringing back Penny only to kill her again was entirely pointless because, even with her death, she couldn't be thoroughly acknowledged.

[singlecrow]

I'm going to treat myself and do that thing where you write about your five favourite stories of your own (of the moment). why the hell not.

everything we do is sewn with this colour [DS9] A late-seasons DS9 Julian/Garak story with a very simple premise: Garak teaches Julian to sew. It takes time for Julian to learn, and during that time, the two of them go from being awkward and unhappy friends with benefits to being in a functional romantic partnership. The idea, of course, is that Garak can sew - he's a tailor, he runs a tailoring business, people get married in the dresses he makes - and in a way, this is the only way Julian can be sure Garak isn't lying to him. If Garak teaches him to sew, then it's because Garak really knows how to teach him. It's my only real Julian/Garak, and honestly I don't think I need any more: this is how I see it going. It's also got Miles, Keiko and Kira as a functional triad in the background, because I know what I like. My one grief about this story is that I don't think Phoebe, purplefringe, my beloved Julian Bashir superfan, ever read it.

some things you just can't speak about (wherever they come from, they'll never run out) [DS9/MASH] This is the most fun I've ever had writing anything, ever. Like, somehow I'd never done a MASH Star Trek AU (I have Star Trek AUs for nearly every non-SFF fandom I've ever done, including Sports Night and Master and Commander), but it didn't click until I realised it was a story about the Dominion War, and then suddenly it's a DS9 AU and it's my two favourite things mashed (lol) together. So this! Hawkeye, though not the protagonist, is very much the main character: they're a nonbinary half-Betazoid, still bipolar, still brilliant, still a walking fuck-you to authority. I made no changes at all to the canon version to make them nonbinary, or an actually-psychic empath. (The screaming! I think some ppl thought I had made up the scene where Hawkeye screams in their sleep enough to wake up everyone in the habitat. Nope, the tv one does that, and he isn't psychic.) The only real change to this Hawkeye is that they're ship's CMO - so they do, sometimes, have to give orders. They don't like it, but they do, and in so doing have to betray their competence (love ppl being competent). And also, they wear the Starfleet uniform dresses, because I could not with how cute that would be. I never said in the story that they were afab, but I assume they were just so they'd be shorter than Margaret.

The other thing here is, the tension between Hawk and Margaret in the show is gender. Margaret would thrive, if she could do what Hawkeye can do - if she could be a soft-edged man who gets respect from nearly everyone for his ability and competence, who sleeps around nd never has it damage his reputation. But he can do that, and she, a woman in the 1950s, can't. Instead, she gets harassed and socially punished every time she steps out of line, though fundamentally she's nothing different from him. But Star Trek doesn't have that gender tension, so instead we have Margaret as Bajoran, who doesn't have Hawkeye's privileges as a Federation citizen. And it's the one rift in their otherwise extremely loving best-friends-with-benefits relationship. (my fave! their canon relationship, my favourite in fiction, probably).

BJ, bless him, is exactly unchanged: his role in the story is to observe the others. Even Potter, a female half-Vulcan who tolerates no crap who I enjoyed enormously. Anyway this story is 40k! longer than any other fanfic of mine and probably always will be because I can't imagine anything else being as fun.

a girl wild and unwished for [MASH] Ah. So, it's 1957 and it's not fun. Hawkeye is in his mid-thirties, and he's fine, except one night he's not: following an intense depression, he tries to commit suicide and is stopped barely in time.

Which is a hell of a beginning to a story, and honestly I feel a bit conflicted about it; I've been unhappy for years about how (some bits of) fandom went from to "you should content-note this content" to "you shouldn't make this content". When this sort of thing is so often my subject matter, it often does feel like fandom doesn't want my fiction and it legit was part of the reason I shifted towards pro. But that's by the bye, and I'm trying to write what I want to again. So in this story, Sidney is so worried about Hawkeye's mental state that he persuades him to try psychoactive medication for the first time. And the story becomes, in its way, a retelling of The Bell Jar with Hawkeye in place of Esther Greenwood: so about life and friendship, about New York in summer, about Hawkeye's work and place in the world, all muted and sharpened and modulated by the effect of the drug. Of course it's about Hawkeye's manic depression, but it's also about who he is; about what he can concede of his mind and personality, and what he can't. I was really pleased with this one. Despite the description, it does have jokes in it.

who were captured, who would not yield [Good Omens] A Good Omens story written just after s1, in the summer of 2019. That feral Good Omens summer! That summer where everything was still perfect and beautiful! I remember writing this by hand on the train to Cardiff to Vidukon, to P's endless amusement. The story isn't a romance - Aziraphale and Crowley have sex in it, for purely pragmatic reasons - but a story about what they do now they're not on opposite sides or on sides at all. Like in all my GO stories, they go to Waitrose, as follows:

Everything is fine. Crowley is definitely not having a breakdown in Waitrose.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale says, by the self-service checkouts. “You were supposed to get an avocado pear.”

“Damn your avocado, angel,” Crowley says, trying not be actively diabolical in all directions. The next customer is buying strawberries, whipped cream and WD-40 – it’s a Friday night – and Crowley can make out the scent of unhappy dairy. Everything’s fine. He’s definitely not having a breakdown. Much more of this and there’s going to be an unexpected fire in the bagging area.

in the chillest land on the sea [the Magnus Archives] Until recently this was my longest story on the AO3, because it was co-written with dearthoughthenightisgone (imperfectcircle on the AO3 because of their godawful brand management). It's a very complex Magnus Archives story, where the basic premise is that all the while Jon is accumulating the statements belonging to the fears to go into the Archive, there is one additional power that we don't see: hope, at the bottom of Pandora's box. So every so often he gets a hopeful, happy statement, and eventually - the day in the Scottish cabin where it all goes wrong - the assistance of the hope power makes things go a little differently. I love this story. We had to write the statements! There are five of them and each one is a little standalone work of original fiction. And the two of us are pretty good at jamming together our disparate styles and themes and doing something good with them, but this one was hard - they wanted a happy ending, I wanted a bleak ending, we had to thread that needle. But I think we did it well, because this is the story where I get the most consistently overwhelming and sweet comments, people who read the story while a beloved family member was ill, or when locked down with covid, and took a little comfort from it. There was fanart! It was something special.

meditations ex post facto [Guardian] This is allegedly a Guardian AU. (Guardian is a fantasy cdrama about a guy called Zhao Yunlan who runs a paranormal investigatory agency, and his lovely boyfriend, who is both a local academic and, uh, a mysterious ancient ghost king.) What this is actually is a romantic comedy with lawyers. It's all I want in life. I wrote the entire first half of it in the Apple store in Covent Garden waiting for my updates to install. This is the best bit in it.

Zhao Yunlan can’t actually blame her, because he’s never been any good at hiding his feelings and he’s kind of composing an email to Shen Wei in another window. Deaaaaar Professsssor Sssshen, he writes. The spilled latte from the other day has made itself at home in his keyboard. Zhao Yunlan painstakingly scrolls back and deletes all the extra letters. I reaaaaally want to see you again pleaaaaaaassse come to dinner with me.

Not at all weird. 

Shen Wei, I was planning to go for noodles tonight. Perhaps you’d like to accompany me.

Weirdly formal, but better. He presses send before he realises that “planning” still has two extra As and a stray Z.

[akookminsupporter]

yk i used to have an old frnd who i was very close to. like really. we used to talk all the time even though we live miles away and haven't met in like 7+ years. but we always got along. she had a really wide and kind of a different approach to life than other people which i really found admiring. i learned a lot of things from her and i honestly miss her presence sometimes. we don't talk anymore. time got us. there wasn't any fight or anything, we just gradually drifted apart and that's what hurts the most. why am i telling you this? because you remind me of her sometimes. she was strong, opinionated and never feared stating whatever was on her mind. that's a quality i acquired from her. so yeah... reading your messages (replies to the anons) remind me of her sometimes.

hope u do well in life, get everything u want and keep up with your spirit, rosie. i wish you the best in life and i hope everyone around you shows their love in their own way to you. and it's my request to you too, that if you have something to say to someone, say it. you never know when things might change, nothing is forever even the best of relationships (platonic, familial or romantic) end sometimes and you don't know when a stranger might become your new special person. so please don't ever hesitate to show your love to your loved ones. i've lost people and it won't be a lie if i say i barely have friends right now (i'm not forty years old, sigh. just ended high school) but that's fine i still have a lot more things coming. i could meet new people in college and hopefully form new definitions of friendships and relationships. but yes, from whatever i have seen so far, what i am sure of is that nothing is forever. i talk to everyone and you won't believe me people see me as a "happy go lucky girl" which i always like, because why being sad in front of people and making them feel sad when they can't do anything to help you? (in a good way. but i have this serious issue of bottling things up and that lead to anxiety. bad one) i literally have these thick walls because of how scared i am of forming bonds just for the fear of losing them. sigh. i just told you nothing is forever but i, myself have a hard time accepting that. easier said than done, isn't it? lol anyway a lot of sentimental and philosophical stuff have been said. geez i might cringe later at myself if you post this. nvm, it's so good that i found your blog, found bts, found armys, and found uh idk everything? yeah, life could be depressing but i try to smile it off because why not?

a frnd of mine was saying she's going to kill herself and i swear i've heard that lot more times from different people. two kids (15 year olds) commited suicide in the last two months where i live. and i was crying in the bathroom because idk who might be next. and it scares me yk what if it's me next? or in future months or years later maybe if i can't smile anymore? it's so disturbing, sigh. and i hate when people joke and say 'i'm gonna kill myself' at the slightest discomfort in life. at least once, just for a second i want them to think of thousands of those people who are surviving under constant fear of hurting themselves for real, who are actually struggling to keep themselves alive, to fight back life harder than it comes for them, and those who want someone to help them out of vicious circle of depression, anxiety and other similar problems they're caught in. i don't like people who make mental health issues look 'aesthetic'. hope they grow up to know better soon.

god i need to learn how to shut up. sorry this long. i love your blog, please don't ever shut this down. ilysm, hope you stay healthy and live your best life. also, again i'm sorry if my message is too depressing. i started off only to tell you that you remind me of my (ex) best friend lol.

Hi, anon! How are you?

I hope this doesn't sound disrespectful but I was a bit surprised when I read that you recently finished high school. There is experience in your words, experience that is usually gained over the years, with mistakes and frustrations but also joys. You are wise beyond your years, anon. That was nice to see. Although I keep in mind that at no point did you mention your age, assuming you're a teenager is perhaps a bit bold of me.

I think I've said it all day but thank you for the nice opinion you have of me. Thank you for the way you think of me. Thank you for somehow telling me that my sincerity is perceived by all of you. I'm sorry that you and your former friend have drifted apart. Life is funny like that sometimes. Sometimes people come into our lives to teach us something but not to stay. And in itself, that is also a life lesson.

In part, you remind me of me but unlike you, I have never had such positive thoughts about my future. About other people's? Of course, I have, but not about mine, I guess in that respect I like to preach but I don't apply what I preach.

Thanks for the advice and good wishes. You are a special person anon. Try not to change. Always try not to let life and all its tribulations ruin your way of thinking. Maybe try to be a little more positive about yourself. Trusting someone else people say is a rewarding thing to do, I need to work on that too, maybe we can do it together. I sincerely hope that people come into your life who bring something to you instead of taking something away from you. I hope that people come into your life with whom you can form sincere, honest and lasting relationships. You sound like the kind of friend I would like to have. That I often need to have.

I wish you nothing but the best anon, thank you for your kind words. I promise I won't forget what you said to me.

GRACIAS!!

[hotchs-second-wife]

DON'T BLAME ME || 2 || Jay Halstead x Thea Rhodes

Synopsis: Theodosia Rhodes, the youngest daughter of a big-time Chicago CEO, needs a husband of her own choice before her father makes that decision for her. Jason Halstead, newly-made Intelligence detective, needs a wife to inherit his portion of his mother's inheritance.

Warnings: Mentions of arson, kidnapping, murder, rape; allusion to childhood trauma, suicide, cancer-related death; descriptions of vehicular accidents including, but not limited to, car-on-car collision, car-on-truck, train; outright familial/parental pressure; portrayal of misogyny and misandry. Read ahead at your own risk.

THEODOSIA

You would think dress shopping would be easy and convenient when you have assistants to find your size and desired style for you.

As I found out, it was much easier to bark orders at grown men that trusted you with their lives than three women who you barely saw due to your job.

"Sheath silhouette, with an off-the-shoulder neckline and a 10-foot train," the store employee explained, as she brought in another dress for me. "Let me know when you're ready to show your bridesmaids, and I'll help you with the train."

I thanked her, and she closed the door to let me change. All the dresses had been beautiful, but none of them felt right. I hoped once Kelly and Elli arrived, I'd find the right one.

Dressed into the latest choice by Gabby, Sylvie and Donna, I walked back into the waiting area to show them. The store employee, Bridget, held the train of my dress for me as I stopped in front of the ladies a part of the wedding party.

"Mommy!" Elli's voice squealed as she ran across the store from her father's side. After we hugged, she held my hand as she turned to Kelly. "Isn't Mommy pretty, Daddy?"

"She's gorgeous," Kelly smiled at me, before picking Elli up and sitting her with Donna. "How many has she gone through?"

"Ten." The girls answered together.

Kelly deadpanned, turning to me. "I know price isn't the issue here." He looked at the employee, "do you have anything in silk?" She nodded. "Can you go get them for her to try on please?"

As the employee left to find the dresses, I thanked Kelly. "Good thing you're my man of honour."

He fiddled with the lace train behind me. "I know certain textures set off your hypersensitivity. I got you." Now that I had Kelly as backup, I wondered if Jay and Brooklyn were doing any better with RSVPs.

JASON

What kind of things could a rich man be doing that's more important than his daughter's wedding? At least my old man—in spite of me, of course—was doing a better job of providing availability for the wedding.

He was likely trying to butter Thea up to take her money. Typical Patrick Halstead.

"Alright, Teddy is at the bridal shop picking out a dress, your tux is on it's way," Brooke checked away at the clipboard in her hand. As my best woman, she was taking charge of me. "How many RSVPs do you have?"

"Friends and family of the bride and groom, or complete strangers?"

Brooke hummed. "Friends and family?"

"24 for the bride, 18 for the groom. Unless you're suddenly bringing someone."

"Tomorrow is your day to get hitched into a committed relationship, not me. Severides don't do monogamy—look at my dad. Living proof monogamy doesn't exist in the brains of a Severide." Brooke laughed, holding her hands up. "Man-whore."

I knew Brooke's relationship with her dad was worse than mine. At least Pat didn't cheat on Mom before she died. Kelly was in his senior year when Benny cheated on Jennifer, and Brooke never saw her older brother so torn apart. I always bet it was because Kelly was the oldest that he never let her see him as anything but the strong big brother.

"Of course Cornelius said he's unavailable," Brooke grunted, as she looked over the correspondence. She knew more about my bride than I did. Hell, she knew more about everything than me. One of us would ask a question out loud, and she'd give us an answer two seconds later.

The fact her older brother was my future wife's best friend had something to do with it, of course. It also had everything to do with the Severides being completely in-charge of the bridal party.

Apparently Thea didn't like being in charge of her friends, so she was thankful she had an older brother and older sister, and she never bossed her team around unless she was mad enough to raise her voice. So that was Kelly's job for the wedding and it's planning.

"Her sister will come, hopefully," Brooke continued, pacing in circles about the guest list.

From what I knew, Thea and Claire had been close as kids, but drifted apart when their mother died, and became even more distant when their brother left. I knew 51 were what her family should've been—the tight-knit brothers and sisters Thea wished she always had.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a text from Thea.

My assistant needs us to meet her at the jewellers, she lost the paper with our ring sizes.

I let Brooke know I had to meet with Thea, and she promised to finish checking the RSVP list. Within ten minutes, I was at the jewellers. It was close to my our apartment, between our place and the nearest Dolan Rhodes stores. That store was the only one Thea was in charge of—each of the Rhodes kids had to run at least one store by their 18th—and it was easiest for her to check in on during her shifts if she really needed.

"Mr. Halstead, Ms. Rhodes is this way," one of the store's employees guided me into a private room where my fiancèe and the store manager waited. I gave a kiss to her temple—to keep up public appearance—before paying my attention to the manager.

We had our fingers measured, and left out the back door. The press was upping their game since they found out there was a Rhodes wedding in a week. A limousine waited for us, our driver stepping out to greet us.

He opened the door for us, holding it and closed it after we got situated in the back seat.

"I've picked the dress—thanks to Kelly. It's not all that traditional like your father asked—"

I blew it off. "Ignore him. It's your wedding, wear what you want. Not what he wants you to wear."

Thea was quiet for a moment, before continuing. "Donna helped me pick out something for the honeymoon as well, which will go under the dress. Did your suit arrive yet?"

"I left my place before it arrived, but Brooke should be fine to get it." We fell back into comfortable silence, listening faintly to the buzz of Chicago. For a Friday night, it was quiet and steady.

I was engaged for two more days. By Sunday night, I'd be a married man.

"You guys can use all the money I reserved for your bachelor party, you know that, right? It's just going to get put into your AMEX after the wedding anyway."

I frowned, as I turned to Thea, who mindlessly scrolled on her phone. "You don't need to give me a credit card—"

"Technically it's a policy." She replied, waving a hand in dismissal, before she looked at me. "You won't get a corporate card because you'll just have mine and my father won't give you your own store anyway. But everyone in the Rhodes family has to have their own American Express card.

"I'm not saying you have to use it—I don't use mine unless I need to use my allowance—you can just keep it as an emergency card. All my work payments go into a separate card, which I use everyday unless I overspend." She pointed at me, "which Kelly will say that now you have to keep an eye on my spending habits, by the way."

I put my hands up to my shoulders, defensively, "I'm not going to tell you how to spend your money, Thea."

"Good." She smiled. "This marriage will work then."

A smile crept up my face before I even knew what I was doing. Not that I hated the idea of Thea making me smile, it was just a surprise. Brooke told me we'd get along when Thea got over her initial dislike for me; we had things in common.

We both hate our fathers (Brooke's words), and both have older brothers who disappeared to God knows where as soon as they could. And we were best friends with Severides.

But by god was this woman rich.

Only I didn't realise how rich she really was until after the wedding.

[drowning-inmysleep]

ultima // discard

La Mort de Marat / Marat Assassiné , Jacques-Louis David "I have unintentionally created a soundtrack for the precognitive anguish my family will experience" January 8th, 3:00am. I'm working on a song that I had no inspiration for other than creating something loud and layered in a way similar to a song a friend/understudy had showed me days prior. I compose three minutes of music, in which it starts by assaulting the listener with grain delay processed bass samples and hard kicks. After thirty seconds of this the track opens itself similar to the ribcage of the Gaping Dragon, residing at the bottom level of the Undead Burg. It drops it's hardness for a broken arrangement of synths, the melody is trying to pierce through but it never ends up being able to. Like a CD skipping. This is the moment the track breaks and shows itself.

When I was making this, I barely thought anything of it other than "this is powerful". I remember thinking this track will scare people when I play it out, or that if they're on enough drugs it could push them to an emotional breakthrough.

A lot of times I think about the people on drugs in the crowd of my shows, and how the music I make will effect them. In the instance of "ultima//discard", I am almost certain this will invoke some sort of bad trip.

I remember reading an interview with Yoko Taro, my favorite video game creator and scenario writer, in which he said something along the lines of: "To be a creator is to understand your audience, and to understand that is how to hurt them. You find how they react based on your previous work, and you build off of that. In a way it feels like manipulation on a mass scale. It makes me feel bad" As a creator this is true. I feel the same way, but what I think is important to know is the context of said creator. Taro has expressed that in his life, he has experienced a great deal of pain, and is haunted by the memory of it. It comes through in our work whether we'd like it to or not.

All of the artists inspirational to me follow this same pattern and ethos. A good portion of them ended up committing suicide.

Returning to the night of January 8th, the creation of ultima//discard - I made all three minutes of the song in one sitting. At first it was an experiment to see how much I could do with the that bass I mentioned above, but once the broken synth ensemble showed itself I knew there was something there and I had to keep going. An hour later I have the song constructed enough to walk away from at 3 minutes, and finish later. This is how I create most of my music. Usually an outpour of whatever I'm feeling right then and there, to then be expanded upon and revisited. I take a break and load up the game Tales of Berseria. A game in which the main character, Velvet, has their only family member sacrificed by what was their only parental figure, and is then turned into a "Therion" - a demon-human creature that feeds off of other demons. The rest of the game is spent hunting down the parental figure that took Velvet's younger sibling from them. In the game Velvet is plagued by dreams of her consuming and eating her younger brother, the one sacrificed by her father. Her father is now a world leader of peace, and it turns out the sacrifice was necessary to enact said peace. It was getting late, but as I'm tearing humans and demons apart as Velvet I can't help but think "I need to add a vocal to ultima//discard". As mentioned in previous articles, if i'm sampling vocals from another song I like to take them and push them to a darker, much worse place than their origin. I look up something like "why can't you save me?" and "baby can't you save me?". Not knowing any song that says that, but plainly I had the idea to bring the vocal in near the end of where I got to. I find the song Save Me by Nicki Minaj. "'I'm givin' up baby, yes And I can't seem to silence these voices in my head (Yeah) This time, won't you save me? Come save me This time, won't you save me?" This is exactly what I needed, exactly what I wanted. It makes it even better that it's from Nicki Minaj, an artist mainly known for her braggadocios persona. To find a example of her sounding so broken, in a song I never heard from her. It's like I had a precognition this existed, as it were similar to the generic lyric prompt I'd searched to find it. Regardless, I isolate the vocals from the song and take the part I referenced, and throw them at the (current) end of the track. I've recently started processing vocals in a very distinct way, trying to evoke the echoes of hauntology present in Burial's work. He would probably hate that.

I wasn't entirely pleased with the execution, alas the idea was there and I would return to it later. I walked away from it feeling excited to get back eventually, but also that there was something extremely dark about this song.

I never intended for it to be anything real, or representative of anything I was going through. I wasn't really going through anything when I made it, besides the weight of the things I've experienced in my life already. But that wasn't on my mind, I just wanted to make a romantic club track in the flavor of tortured loner musicians I worship so heavily. Maybe I worship these artists because in a way I get it. I yearn for human connection but said connection is hard for me to trust or process. I am someone that would probably be better off knowing less people and spending more time inside.

I'm a popular person and most people that know me like, but naturally I lean towards my real relationships and friendships being through digital interfaces. I've always been this way. The consistent relationships in my life are that of romantic partners, or creative/work partners. With all that being said, the song did feel like it was representative of something real, something I didn't want to face, or something tragic that is inevitably on it's way to me. This is a feeling I encounter whenever I dream.

I suffer from insomnia, which started after a 2 month period of lucid dreaming when I was a teenager. My dreams have always been something I take as reality while I'm experiencing it. Most of the dreams I remember feel precognitive, as they are never whimsical or magical or 'dreamlike' in anyway. They feel like any other day, and usually something bad happens in them.

I would say that atleast 70% of the precognitive dreams I have come true, and when they do I am gravely upset I was right about the outcome whether I was thinking about it or not. I wrote about this in my first article here, in which I mentioned a dream I had where my sister called me and told me my Grandpa died. He died the next day.

As I've grown up I've found that certain drugs stop me from being able to dream, and you could say I have a dependency on them now.

Once again, let us return to ultima//discard. The track title comes from a naming motif I came up with a few weeks ago, in which each track will be named "ultima// "track title". Ultima referring to the feminine form of the latin word, "ultimus", meaning "farthest or last". In a literal sense, it also refers to the last syllable of a word. Each ultima track has it's real name after the word ultima, and those words hold the real relation to the song. I never think too hard about naming anything, usually just some romanticized idea of whatever i'm doing. In the essence of this song, "discard" refers to the amount of people I have discarded in the past few months.

Now that I'm writing this I'm realizing the theme of discarding people has been a consistent emotion present in my work and my life for the past year.

However, the title really meant nothing to me. It was just another grouping of words that sounded right to me. I named the song and went to bed. I slept for a few hours, being woken up by a dream in which my mom was crying in the hospital and some man was in a hospital bed. I felt sick, but at the same time am used to this sort of dream, and went about my day.

Over the course of the day I revisited the song, feeling excited about this new direction i'm taking my music in - although I still felt somewhat uncomfortable about the energy I subconsciously captured whilst writing it.

After spending the day inside, I got dressed and left the house to go drop off resumes at a few jobs in the city. I don't really need a job right now, but taking advice from Yung Lean whenever he lost his mind after the release of "Frost God" - I figured I should get a job and let my life be normal for awhile. Become a worker, reduce my ability to go out at night, and create a stricter boundary for myself in regards to self destructive behavior.

I've been working at this and engaging in this mindset for the past month, after some unfortunate events transcribed in my life in November. I experienced sexual assault for the first time as an adult, and a relationship I knew was damaging me came to a very dramatic end. I knew I should have left before that, and was preparing to anyway - however, I did not leave and let myself get hurt. This is another common theme in my life. A few weeks after I went out one night with friends after being in my house for weeks, and I got into a car accident that ended up costing a lot of money. As much as I've processed these moments, maybe this is what I was conjuring in ultima//discard - atleast I thought. Like I said, I wasn't really thinking about anything other than making a song when I made it.

January 8th, 6pm. I'm leaving the gas station on my way to print out and drop off resumes, a car comes down the street faster than I expected, I move out of the way and hit my tire against a curb, breaking the tire and rim, once again rendering me without a vehicle. I was listening to ultima//discard. I had the song on repeat, as I always do with songs I make the day prior / songs I'm working on. I stop it at the 25 second mark (before the introduction of the synths) and call my dad to tell him what happened. I'm not even freaking out at this point, I'm used to things like this happening. As I'm on the phone with my dad, he tells me we'll work it out but that he has to talk to me about something. A family member of mine has attempted suicide by overdose and we are unsure if he will survive. He's in the hospital hooked up to machines while the doctors try and stabilize him.

This in combination with the situation I initially called my dad about, I'm at a loss for feeling or words about any of it. Somehow I knew this would happen, I was not surprised to get this news. I hate that. I hate feeling this way everytime something horrible happens. I end the call with my dad, and ultima//discard starts again. The synths come in, and plainly It's overwhelming me. I thought at that moment: "I have unintentionally created a soundtrack for the precognitive anguish my family will experience"

While this is a coincidence, I had a feeling there was a reason this song felt so heavy, and stuck to me so hard. I spent all day listening to it before hearing the news, it was the soundtrack of my day. Upon hearing the news, the ethos of the song was prescribed right then and there. Whether I liked it or not, this is my soundtrack for the moment in which I learned my family member tried to kill themself. I don't know if they'll survive, I have a feeling they won't. I hope I'm not right about that.

//to be continued

[m1ch3ll3c0r3]

Kunikida x OC/Self Insert

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You're so pretty... Just like that gem on the beach...

***TW***

This story contains mentions of suicide. If you are going through anything, please talk to someone or call a help line!

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Kunikida's mind had been all over the place recently. His schedule is in shambles, and he doesn't know what to do about it. A few days ago, him work friend, Michelle, tried to commit suicide. Kunikida had been there in time to stop her, but this still didn't stop him from witnessing what she was about to do. He remembered the scene like it was one in a movie. She had the rope tied around her neck, and she was standing on a chair. She planned on jumping off of that chair. Kunikida saved her. But just barely. She was admitted into a hospital for the time being. He wished he had noticed the signs beforehand. He couldn't do anything about it now. He did what he could by saving her. He just hoped she wasn't sitting in her hospital bed hating him for it.

He sighs dejectedly.

What am I doing? Am I on schedule? I cannot make mistakes here..

He pauses as he remembers what happened.

I... I need to see her.

When he finishes with all his work, he goes to the hospital to see Michelle. He walks through the white hallways and enters her room.

Kunikida quietly entered Michelle's room. He noticed she was quietly playing with a small stuffed animal. He recognized it immediately. It was a blue dragon he had given to her on her birthday when they were still in high school. She seemed to be crying as she held it to her chest and stared at the ceiling, not noticing Kunikida had entered the room.

Kunikida sits down next to her bed. He watches her for a while but finally breaks the silence.

Michelle?

Michelle heard his voice. She did not look at him. Instead, she sat up slightly and hugged the stuffed animal as her crying became louder. She acknowledged he was there, but she felt bad for making him see her like that. She couldn't help but think about all of the time they spent together. She felt like she ruined everything between them after her attempted suicide.

Michelle, please... Don't be like that. It was my fault for not noticing the signs. It was unfair of me to assume you would be okay.

He pauses.

I am just glad you are still alive.

Michelle calms down a little bit and wipes some of the tears from her face with her sleeves. She looks at him and touches his face lightly with her hand. Her hand was cold

You're a good man, you know that?

Michelle seems to be holding back tears between words. She looks at his face for an extended period of time.

Your eyes are so pretty..

Kunikida's face heats up, and he looks away. His cheeks are flushed, and he shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

Ah... T-Thank you..

He rubs the back of his head with his hand

But why do you say that?

Michelle moves her hand off of his face and wipes some more tears off of her face with her sleeve.

They remind me of a pretty gem I saw one time..

Kunikida noticed she was trying to distract her mind from why she was in the hospital in the first place.

You're deflecting... I know you are thinking about what happened a few nights ago... The truth is... l feel responsible for it.

The tears start flowing her face again. She heard what he said to her. She was simply trying to ignore it. This time, while she spoke,she was crying and spoke something completely off of the topic.

That gem was sparkling... saw it on the beach.

He doesn't want to admit it, but he is getting frustrated now.

..Michelle, come on. You can't just deflect the topic like that every time..

It was beautiful..

She continued to cry as she spoke. She didn't want to talk about it. She continued to avoid it.

Just like you are... inside and out..

Kunikida sighs quietly and rubs his forehead with his hand. He's starting to feel agitated by this.

Michelle, I.. we have to talk about what happened just a few days ago.

Michelle continued to cry as she spoke. She knew Kunikida was becoming agitated, but she really did not want the broach the subject.

I wish I had brought that gem home.. the sunlight from my window would have made it shine more... and I could be reminded of you everyday..

Kunikida is starting to get angry.

Stop. Stop deflecting. Do you have any idea how much you worried me? Do you understand that I don't care about your damn gem?

Michelle sobs as she yells at him. She doesn't know what else to do.

BUT I CARE ABOUT IT! I CARE ABOUT THE GEM! IT WAS BEAUTIFUL! JUST LIKE YOU! I WISH I NEVER WORRIED YOUR BEAUTIFUL FACE LIKE THIS!

Michelle buries her face into her hands and sobs. Kunikida gets angry to the point that he starts shouting at her.

You know what? Yeah, you worry me. And, what about it? YOU ALMOST COMMITTED SUICIDE AND YOU CAN'T EVEN TALK ABOUT IT LIKE ITS A NORMAL THING. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU???

Then he stops, realizing what he just said.

Michelle looks up at him. She doesn't know how to react to what he said besides yelling back at him to leave.

GET OUT! MAYBE I WAS WRONG! YOU AREN'T LIKE THAT GEM AT ALL! GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!

Kunikida is stunned and speechless for a moment. Then he stands up from the chair and walks to the door.

Fine.

He walks out the door without looking back and slams the door behind him.

As soon as he left and slammed the door, her screams could be heard from the end of the hallway. This prompted several nurses to check on her.

As he walks down the halls, he is completely lost in thought. He keeps beating himself up for what he said to her. He was just thinking she wouldn't care, but.. Now, he has probably ruined the relationship between them.

(Time skip)

Michelle was finally let out of the hospital and was allowed to work again. She had returned to the agency but was never allowed to be on her own. She was still partners with Kunikida. The two were silent most of the time. Until one, they were both working on some paperwork from a case they just solved. Michelle suddenly spoke.

Kunikida... I still think that you are beautiful like that gem I saw..

Kunikida is taken aback by this. This is the first time Michelle spoke to him properly after the incident. He turns his head to face her.

Are you still talking about that goddamn gem?

I'm sorry...

She looks back down at the paperwork and sighs as she continues to fill out the paperwork from the last case.

Kunikida is still looking at her. He is visibly annoyed but is starting to calm down. He clears his throat.

You know I'd rather you not talk about that gem anymore, right?

Alright..

Michelle hands him her half of the paperwork that she completed. She stood up and looked outside of the window, staring at the beach where she had found that gem that reminded her so much of Kunikida.

It seems like she has still not gotten over this gem. Kunikida rolls his eyes and finishes filling out the paperwork that Michelle gave him. He walks over to where she is and taps her shoulder to get her attention.

Mhm...?

She doesn't bother to turn around as she continues to look out of the window. However, she seems to still be listening to him.

Kunikida stares at her back for a little while before speaking.

.. Do you still hate what I said to you that day?

No. I deserved it.

She closes the window and turns around to look at Kunikida.

Now that she is facing him directly, she notices the coldness of his eyes towards her. Her heart sinks as she realizes that she caused that with her actions.

I wish you were still the same man who saved me. You're like a whole different person now. I can only blame myself for it.

Michelle puts on her jacket and leaves. On her way out, she says to him where she is going.

I'm going to the beach...

Kunikida is struck by this statement. He stares at her blankly as she leaves. He notices her body language, showing sadness, which is unusual for her. He wants to stop her from going. But he cannot bring himself to chase after her.

Michelle makes it to the beach. She goes to the spot where she found that gem. It was still there. She sat in the sand as she picked up the gem and watched shine in the sun's brightness. It really did remind her of Kunikida. Back before the hospital incident.

Kunikida has been watching her from behind. He has made it his duty to follow her. They may no longer be on close terms, but he still cares about her.

She sits down on the sand. She stares at the gemstone shining in the light. She seems so... peaceful. He just stares at her, unable to say anything.

Michelle does not turn around. However, she does notice Kunikida's presence

Kunikida... you can sit next to me... I want to still be friends with you... I don't want to waste a friendship I've had since high school. I know you hate this gem, but... you can come look at it if you want.

He hesitates but goes to sit beside her anyway.

All right, I guess.. But you can't make me look at that thing. I am sick of it.

She doesn't make him look at it. She looks at Kunikida's eyes and back at the gem multiple times. The gem really was the same color of his eyes. She didn't say it out loud, though, since she still wanted to be friends with Kunikida and not upset him anymore.

Kunikida sits in awkward silence. He looks at Michelle and the gem. He can see that the light shines off of them in similar ways. He stares at these two objects and then at Michelle's eyes. He finally speaks after quite a while

The gem does shine just like my eyes..

I told you...

Michelle smiles slightly and places the gem in her pocket.

I'm sorry for what happened at the hospital... I know you were trying to help me...

Kunikida pauses for a bit and finally sighs.

l am sorry for what I said. I think we were both in a rough spot.

He smiles slightly.

I am glad you are still alive...

[jnselfshipping]

「Love of my life」

This is a post dedicated to let people know more about my F/O, Aesop, and our relationship. Not many people know him because his source material is so niche. It's also a win-win, because I get to lore-dump and gush about him! This post will keep updating as my understanding of his character changes (if it changes).

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About him

Aesop has a reserved, quiet personality. He is a man of few words, but he is very intuitive. He has severe social impediments, stemming from crippling social anxiety (explicitly stated by source material). In his 2nd anniversary voicelines, you can hear his voice getting softer and softer until it is barely louder than a whisper.

However, he has another side. Below the surface, Aesop has a kind of confidence. Unlike some other characters, Aesop is always standing gracefully straight, shoulders back and head held high. He is also shown to have a sense of duty in leading others to death, and being very passionate about doing his job perfectly right and respecting the dead.

Lastly, he is baby.

About us

Four years ago, I came across a game called Identity V. It was quite popular (not on western media ofc) and the fandom was in full throttle. I joined the game a while after a gray-haired, sombre and reserved young embalmer became a playable character; a character by the name of Aesop Carl. He was not hugely popular: he wasn't particularly meta, he wasn't super impressive, and his lore wasn't fully fleshed out yet. In fact, most of the attention he received in the fandom was from a ship which characterised him as a weak, bashful, pillow-biting bottom simply because he looked kinda cute. Needless to say, I didn't pay him much attention.

「He looks interesting.」 said I, at the time, in a conversation with a friend, before I changed the topic.

One stuffy afternoon, I came across a lore article of the game, delving deep into the character's stories. It mentioned Aesop, the embalming industry in the 19th century, and the possibility of manipulation that he was subjected to, to make him like he is now. I read it and only half-understood it. I had not bothered to see his character stories before, so I didn't know much about his personality... or anything, actually, but to understand this cool sounding article, I was going to have to sit through some context. I booted up google and found his character stories on some website. It was only to get enough information to read the article. I'm sure I wouldn't fall for this character or anything. It won't be a problem.

Half an hour later, I had a problem. A massive problem.

Over the next months I started writing about him. It started with analytical things about his lore. I read all the chemicals that were used in 19th century embalming processes. I chewed my pen over details in his upbringing: did his father die, or did he divorce? Did his mother commit suicide? How does his mother know Jaye Carl, his stepfather? Was he bullied? Isolated? More and more, I wanted to know all the details about him.

I also wrote poetry. Soppy poetry that I cringe to read now. I told my friends all the possibilities that his life could have gone. And I daydreamed. About his eyelashes, his personality, everything.

I looked up at the sky one day, thinking of him, and with a pang I realised: "Oh shit, I'm in love". And so it began.

And now. We've been together for four years and counting! I cannot be prouder of us.

[bruins35]

Overnight Diary Entry No. 5

Hello Void,

Sorry for the little break, but I think on weekends I'm going to just use that to decompress from work and relax.

Well, yesterday was my ex-girlfriend's birthday, the one that I was in a mentally abusive relationship. This entry seems like a perfect time to just talk about it, and type it out what it caused me. Will use the name Tina for this one. Before I start, let me just say Tina and I have talked things over about this relationship, and have moved on from any bad feelings from this relationship. Tina was my first love, and will always have a place in my heart.

Tina and I met in one of those Disney College Program facebook groups. We instantly hit it off with a bunch of others, and would group video chat through out the year as we wait for all of us to move to Florida and work for WDW. The only difference from the group with Tina and I is that Tina and I continued talking outside the group. We got very close, and decided since we'll be meeting in WDW, and we video chat a lot decided to jump into a Relationship.

Let me start of with this was my first long term relationship, and obviously made mistakes. If anyone outside of a couple friends I gave a link to my tumblr reads this. Let me describe myself, I'm a bigger guy, or heavyset gentleman, I didn't consider myself attractive (still don't), and had self-esteem issues. If I could go back in time, and have the person I am now do this relationship, it probably would've either went on a lot longer or I personally would've ended it.

I knew Tina had depression, she told me, but I don't really remember if she told she had anxiety. We met, early morning before we had to meet at Vista Way to check in. I was so happy to see this Beautiful Latina woman, and couldn't believe how lucky I was to have her as my girlfriend.

As we started to get into a routine, everyone started training except me, for some odd reason my didn't start until like two weeks after I arrived lmao. We slowly started having arguments over little shit, and then as the months would go on it seemed like she purposely would poke me to get into arguments. Till this day it annoys the shit out of me lol.

When we would have a big blow out argument, she would "break up" with me. So, me being a male, working at Disney, being told "You're gay until proven Straight" which is a very mind boggling statement that's besides the point, I would start messaging other girls, and potentially flirty with them. Now after a few days of a big argument Tina would want to get back together.

Now, Tina at times would check my computer with my facebook up, and see these messages and accuse me of cheating. I'd inform her these messages would happen when she would yell and break up with me, so I was technically single when any of these messages happened. We'd have a big blow out argument, she'd break up with me again, and with out my knowledge we'd be together again.

One day during the DCP, she told me she was going to commit suicide, and I was at work. I freaked out, had to talk to my leader to reach out to her leadership team to check in on her. Only for me to find out she was working at that time. Let me just say this, Tina was on Suicidal watch before, so I couldn't take this as a bluff or anything like that. Now let this be a cursor of what would become of our future relationship.

After her DCP program, we decided to move in together, which hindsight probably wasn't smart considering we still had our arguments. Well when we all moved into this apartment, and we officially lived together, she got annoyed that I played video games. I barely played my games because most of the time I spent my time either working or with her. So, that'd cause an argument.

It felt like she constantly looked for reasons to argue with me, it got so bad to the point it gave me a anxiety attack. Through all this though, I still loved her and wanted to be with her even if she caused me to realize what depression is and that I had since I was in High school.

She would constantly accuse me of cheating, and let me just say I never cheated on this Woman. I loved her too god damn to do something like that, she met my family, met my best friend, and saw my become a godfather. Why the fuck would I cheat on her, but anyways this leads to me eventually starting to think she might have cheated on me.

She eventually got hired to do HHN, and also got hired to be a character which she wanted to do with Disney. Tina would get upset if I was up late texting anyone, which IMO if I was it was my guy friends, or trying to trade shifts so I can spend time with her on her day off.

Well, she met one of the parade characters at universal that would play drums on the float, and she wanted to learn. This guy would text her constantly and late into the night. I finally confronted her on that and told me she wasn't cheating. (If she wasn't cheating if I had to guess she was at least emotionally cheating.)

I'm going to skip ahead here after the break up because this getting very long lol. We would end up going to dinner a couple/few years after where everything kind of felt right for us, and we discussed maybe getting back together since we were older, and changed. Well a couple days later shows she is in a relationship on facebook and like 2 months later married lol. They're now divorced.

I believe last year we ended up getting dinner when I visited Florida, she admitted that every guy I was Sus about she hooked up with supposedly after we broke up. I don't if I can believe that, but yeah, after that Dinner she actually went MIA on me, didn't respond to me, and ignored any DM's from me. She only just responded to me yesterday which i have to expect is because of her Birthday.

I won't lie and say I don't love her, because I do, but I've long moved on and got closure from her. I'm for the most part happy in my life, and trying to improve my mental health. I did leave out something's but honestly it wouldn't have changed much about this.

Have good night void.

[dnalkaline]

ugh nobody actually has to read this i just feel like i need to type all my thoughts out somewhere or i'll explode.

I know like 9-12k$ isn't like impossible to get but it feels so daunting and i know barely anyone will reblog or donate to my GFM if i made one (as always happens for my medical shit. even for my pets) so idk what the fuck do even do about this. I'm trying not to be cynical about it but that's just been the running theme since. literally my entire life. i don't even know why i bother anymore

Honestly i have no hope for my future if that shit grows back and leaves me in the same amount of pain as someone going through labor multiple times a year AGAIN i think i will actually kill myself for real. im sick of this shit.

like this isn't even a dysphoria thing it's something that could ACTUALLY kill me through blood clots and nobody in my life IRL even fucking cares. My mom has enough money to just pay for a hysterectomy out of pocket for me without it being a huge deal to her and she just fucking won't and just keeps telling me to harass my insurance about it despite this being months of back-and-forth and i can already feel my endo symptoms growing back.

My insurance flat-out told me they'll only approve it if it keeps growing back and i have to go through surgery to remove it multiple times. This isn't even counting the fact I also have CYSTS that need to be removed because they're also causing pain and my insurance just... won't fucking approve it

The symptoms are already coming back after my most recent surgery and I'm still having periods despite the fact I'm POST-MENOPAUSE.

I don't understand why people keep preventing me from committing suicide just to not actually help me with the reasons why I keep trying to kill myself. it feels cruel. People say to reach out or whatever and then go radio silent. it feels so performative. I don't even mean that i expect my friends to give me money because i know everyone has problems but it feels like i keep being ignored and people make a point to not even reblog my help posts. It's always like the same 3 people getting in touch.

at this rate i hope i die. everyone keeps telling me it'll get better and i just have to go on but my entire life is me getting out of the frying pan and into the fire. Therapy hasn't been helping anymore because all the depression isn't like trauma shit it's just the poverty and the fact life keeps actively trying to get me killed by any means necessary all the time. I'm exhausted.

I'm tired of being the sick friend that's treated like the elephant in the room just because i can't fucking do anything and every inch of my life is just another walking trigger warning to people. I've become self conscious about needing to walk with mobility aids now because I feel like it's just another reminder of my fragility and inevitable demise to people.

I just don't fucking get it. i metaphorically break my back all the time to help other people with their shit but i barely get anything in return (except from the same few ppl i mentioned earlier and i am very grateful you guys are real friends). like. am i doing something wrong. am i just an unlikable person. i know people think i'm scary which i try to offset by being nice but i don't know if it's working.

I'm only alive right now because all of the fucking demon pacts and other spirit work i do causing me to avoid stuff and get more opportunities and I feel stupid about it because that's not even stuff that most people believe in and can't even be proven to be real.

i dont even know where im going with this im tired and i want to give up. fuck life. i actively despise life most of the time. I guess I just have to keep clinging to my blorbos i dont fucking know. whatveer.

[lonelyloverz]

Entry 1

When I was 14 I felt that my life would end when I turned 18.

I had no plans of committing suicide but I was sure that there would be no point in me living beyond that point. Why I thought this I couldn’t tell you. I was probably just depressed from the stresses of quarantine and moving. Although in my mind I wasn’t giving up on my life from my parents’ perspectives I probably was, or maybe I’m just hopeful they even cared to notice my issues at the time. But anyways, I didn’t really need to change my ways, I think I’ve just always been a unambitious and childish brat. I hated driving, I hated studying, and most of all I was tired of people. So I carried on doing the bare minimum. Get my drivers license, maintain a 3.0 gpa, and only talk to people when absolutely required. All I needed to comfort me was my bed and some music. I had long gotten over my binge watching of anime by then. My parents were always upset that I “slept” for over 12 hours if left unbothered. The reality was that I would simply lay there and daydream of an alternate reality with a more favorable version of myself. My parents eventually bought a house with a big yard. From noon to evening my younger siblings would toil alongside my parents to tidy the place up of old roots and weed and I would dream from my bed of working alongside them. My dad would call me sleeping beauty, royal highness, princess. What an idiot. Calling me names without even trying to understand the embarrassing loneliness that I felt everyday. My mom was more passive aggressive, she continued to act lovingly but it was quite obvious she was getting annoyed by me. Of course because she replaced me with my younger brother. I think that was one of my last straws. My mom was mine. I had no other mother like her. I had no other friend like her. And my nobody of a younger brother who somehow grew taller than me, became more friendlier than me, does better in school than me, does all my hobbies better than me replaced me. Me the one who cried by her side when she debated divorce, me who she always confided with since she had no one else, me her only and most prized daughter. I’d had enough of it. My life was truly ending on my 18th. And then I was diagnosed with a disease. An incurable one. It’s nothing serious but I’ll have to take meds for my whole life. My heart skipped a beat when I was told that there was a tremendously low but possible chance of cancer. It’s laughable. I quickly got tired of all the hassle of getting a mere doctor’s appointment. In the end I only made my parents mad. My dad yelled at me “you’re such a disappointment, it’s as if you don’t even want to live.” My 18th birthday was a rather anticlimactic one. I woke up, some happy birthdays and a begrudging trip to the Cheesecake Factory. All I could think of that day was “oh this is it.” No friends, no big party, no surprises. I mean I had it coming I didn’t necessarily plan the day or anything like my classmates did so the Cheesecake Factory was a last minute decision but wasn’t 18 a special day? My parents didn’t plan anything? I couldn’t even cry that night.

[pennyscientist]

November Palette; Stillwater, NY

Gray, deepening to charcoal. Boar bristle strokes of mauve where the cornfield meets the forest. Sodden, rust-colored leaves underfoot. The field is hewn and barren; rows of broken stalks stir uneasily in the damp wind. The cotton pods have long burst, disgorged, and dispersed. All that’s left is a few dingy fibers still clinging to their shells—the seeds that failed to launch.

I haven’t cried since I learned how he did it. The method was not a surprise, though I knew many had hoped it was an accident, an overdose—widening their eyes to invoke the phantom of fentanyl lurking in yuppy party drugs. But my friend was too proud to die by accident. No, it was the cruelty of his execution that shocked me. He had arranged it so that his estranged wife, returning to the apartment they shared for a day date—(hopeful, giddy with the prospect of their reconciliation)—would be the one to find him.

The sky is empty and white. A flock of geese circles above the field, sounding their plaintive discord as they seek a place to land. There are fewer this year. The vast V’s that once canvassed the clouds have dwindled to a mere checkmark. On the other side of the ridge, the developers have clear cut the land and scraped it clean. Now, when it rains, mud streams down the hill, toward the houses crowding the lake.

I suppose no one is at their best when committing suicide. Even as my heart hardens against my friend for the sheer selfishness of his final living act, I can’t help thinking that this, too, was always a part of him. His brilliance could be brought low by his pettiness. Among his gifts of perception was a knack for knowing a person’s insecurities and, quick as a surgeon, lancing them with a word and the intention to wound. We often talked about that, how sometimes what we love most in a person is also what makes them the worst.

The field and farmland recede, giving way to more domesticated territory. When we first moved here, this too was a field. I used to call it “my field,” as if I could ever claim domain over such a wild place. But now a row McMansions squat on anemic green lawns. One of the neighbors fancies himself a vigneron and has erected columns of grape vines. But it’s November now and the plants‚ if they ever bore fruit at all, are long bare. They twirl around the posts like ropes of barbed wire.

I can’t keep anything to myself so I tell my mother. And my husband. I don’t tell my brother. Suicide has contagious properties and though I suspect that Patrick is like me—self-destructive, but sturdy in the will to live—I don’t want to risk it. My husband doesn’t know what to make of it. My mother only shakes her head. “He must have been in a lot of pain,” she says.

I scan the power lines criss-crossing over the road. I was eighteen the summer we arrived in this place and eager to absorb its every detail. Near the end of the road, someone had slung a corded video game controller over the wires, like boys used to do with tennis shoes. It was new then. I could spy its red and green buttons from the pavement. Somehow, it’s managed to linger for nearly two decades—dangling over the roadway through storms and snow, avoiding the workmen’s grasp, bleached pale by the sun. Despite myself, I’ve attached to it a talismanic significance. I seek it every time I return and find myself flooded with relief upon spotting it still suspended above the road.

It’s astounding how life goes on even in this limbo between knowing he’s gone and saying good bye. Back at my parent’s house, I make the soup. I make hummus. I tell my family about his hummus recipe—more complicated and more delicious than my own: chickpeas, tahini, roasted garlic, caramelized onions, salt, cumin, balsamic vinegar; blended until smooth. He liked to go about everything the long way. On more than one occasion he had tried to persuade me to grind my own spices. I knew that if he had really decided to kill himself, he would be sure to do it right.

[luna-nigthshade-wood]

What they don´t know, will hurt them

Summary: Dean Winchesters attempts suicide on a dirty motel bathtub, ending brain dead on a hospital. A trickster promises John and Sam that he will save him for “free”, as long as they both get through watching a series of Dean´s memories, good and bad. The twist is that they will feel everything Dean did at the time and they can stop it at any time, but then Dean will die. They both accept thinking it cant be that bad. Spoiler: it is worse.    

Interlude

-You know? It´s curious, how Faith was there in the right place at the right moment?- Dean tells his companions as they watch the scenes unfold in front of them

-Yeah, curious indeed- Gabriel responds, not giving anything away

-It is almost as if someone had send her- Dean says, looking at Gabriel knowingly

-Don’t know what you are talking about- the archangel says

-Was it you?- Michael asks, his face pale- Where you the one that send her?

-Perhaps- he answers

-You kept contact with her, even after everything?- Raphael asks, his face as pale as Michael´s

-Of course, I did- Gabriel answers- Why wouldn’t I? I think you forget she was one of mine´s

-What do you mean?- Dean asks curiously

-Before the whole big mess, we, as in Mike, Raph, Luci and I, were in charge of the fledglings, so every time, dad created one more angel, they were assigned to one of us, and she was one of mine´s

-Why I don’t remember any of this?- Castiel asks, the three archangels go silent, before Raphael breaks the silence

-After Lucifer- Raphael answers, voice breaking- well, you know, after he did what he did, a decision was made that the fledglings on his side couldn’t be blamed for not knowing better, so we, as in Michael and I, well…

-We erased your memories- Michael continues with a small voice, after Raphael falls quiet- We thought that way we could give you a clean state, we erased your childhood and implant false memories, little one, so you would never be tempted to follow him.

-But that is..- Cas says lost at words- horrifying, I don’t even know if I had done something wrong, how many memories did I lose?

-All the ones that involve him- Michael answers- We erased most of your memories, your´s, Anna´s, Uriel´s, we thought it was the right choice, it was supposed to be your punishment.

-Punishment for not knowing better?- Dean interludes

-Better than the one that befall my kind, right Michael?- Gabriel interrupts- Better than the punishment you assigned Faith.

-Listen, Gabe, you have to understand…- the oldest archangel tries to defend

-No, you are the one that doesn’t understand- Gabriel answers angrily- she was barely out of fledglinghood herself, she shouldn’t have been measure with the same bar that you measure our wiser and older brothers and sisters, she was only a year out of being a fledging herself, and the only crime she committed was not picking a side and trading messages between both sides, a job that if you can’t remember, you and I authorized, heaven, I was doing the same myself. My fledglings were never meant to be warriors, they were messengers, just like Raphael´s were healers, they weren’t supposed to take part of yours’ and Luci´s war

-I know- Michael says softly

-Then why did you do it?- Gabriel spats

-I didn’t- Michael confesses

-What is that supposed to mean?- Gabriel asks confused, Raphael being the only one in the known is the one that answers, after noting his brother´s silence

-She wasn’t supposed to be exiled forever- he says

-Then what happened?- Cas asks, surprising even himself for interrupting the archangel´s discussion, but wanting to know

-After the war- Michael commences- everything was a mess, Luc´s garrison was not trusted, even the little ones, angels were distrusting one another, they were weeping after losing friends and brothers in arms, they couldn’t believe the inexplicable actions that both sides had committed, and in the middle of everything was the group that hadn’t done anything- he sighs before continuing- Father had vacated the building not before putting me on charge, and I was suddenly given the task to fix everything. I know you and Raph think that Luc and I knew everything, but we were young still, we didn’t know better. The crown was too big for me and everyone look at me as if I hold the answers to the universe, but I didn’t. I had lost the brother I was closes to, dad was as good as gone, Raph was trying to save the unsavable, and you, Gabe, had run away. Everything was chaos, so I did what by then I thought was right, I punished everyone that had opposed me, including those that hadn’t taken a side. The fledglings, like Balthazar and Samandriel, I forgave, and they got the same fate as Lucifer´s, their memories were modified and they were sent away. The older one´s I exiled, burning their wings away. But Faith, she was different, for starters she was few seasons out of being one of the little one´s and also, I remembered she was one of your favorites, so while I wanted to cut her with the same wood, I didn’t, instead I offer her a deal.

-What deal?- Gabriel asks, not wanting to hear it

-I told her I would exile her, like the others, but that I wouldn’t burn her wings, instead I would cut them, and she would be made to wander on Earth like the others never fitting in, but that she would be welcomed back home if…

-If?

-If she found you and brought you with her- Michael confesses

-But she never did- Cas says

-But she never did- Michael confirms

-But she knew were I was, maybe not since the beginning, but its been centuries since she found me, she could have told you, she should have told you, she should have told me, why didn’t she?- Gabriel despairs

-Because- Dean answers- she knew that if she told you, you would have turn yourself in and she knew you would have never been happy if she sent you back here

-She should have told me, I was the one meant to be in charge of her, not the other way around- he says

-Yeah, but coming back would have destroyed you- Dean tells him

-You are talking from experience?- Cas asks

-Of course- Dean answers- Look at me, I destroyed myself sacrificing everything for Sam, and see where I am now

-And still, you would do it again- Michael tells him

-Of course, I would- Dean answers- he is my brother, my son, I would have given everything for him

-And you did- Gabriel answers

-And I did- Dean hums, leaving a thoughtful tone in the air.

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[ravens-rambling]

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[seeingteacupsindragons]

YuuMori has a lot of villains (it’s, y’know, about the villains). YuuMori has a lot of characters with mental illnesses and neurodivergences.

Most of the time when you see this combo, well. Mental health issues have a pretty strong stigma.  Usually the reason they’re evil. Something’s just wrong with them, and their mental health and inability to fit into society is another sign and symptom of it.

And yet, in YuuMori, we have these characters who call themselves demons, who are actively, intentionally, the villains of their story­—and their mental health issues are not one of their sins. They do not add to their villainy.

So Albert is obsessive-compulsive. Whether it’s OCD or OCPD can be argued, maybe (although I lean toward OCPD, myself), but he is in fact seriously mentally ill, desperate enough because of it to commit murder. Personality disorders especially are hard to treat, in part because they’re so ingrained into a person. Someone with generalized anxiety might see their anxiety as separate from themselves, but personality disorders are harder to distinguish that way—and it’s part of what makes them so easy to demonize, even more than most others.

But Albert’s? Instead of making his mind looked warped and twisted, his very soul seeming wrong, his reasoning makes more sense now than it ever did before. This was a boy desperate for relief from constant discomfort, from the dissonance between how he knew this should be, how he’d been taught things were meant to be, and how they so obviously were. And it’s very obvious that he is suffering from something outside himself. He is not suffering because he is evil and his soul is wrong. He was suffering before he’d done anything wrong at all.

His discomfort was one of the most rawly emotional moments he’s ever had: Albert is usually quite cool and collected, sometimes angry, sometimes smug, but he has typically felt quite distant, even on the rare moments his internal thoughts are shown. His mental health issues, his suicidal ideation, his OCD? Those were not villainous, not cool, not collected, not careful. Those were human and desperate and fragile.

And while autism is not a mental illness, in this case it performs a similar function for William. He and Albert both have brains screaming at them constantly because that’s not right. That’s not Just. That’s not the way things should be. That doesn’t follow the rules. This can bring people with obsessive-compulsion disorder to their knees and claw their own skin open. It can bring autistic people to wordless shutdowns. It brought Albert the brink of suicide and William to murder.

They are in agony. Unless they fix the wrongness. And they have tried, so many ways, to fix it, and so many of those ways have fail.

William’s guilt may also be agony, but he’s choosing between two different forms of torment. And he thinks one helps others. Not much of a decision, that, not for someone with a soul and a heart, someone who burns so hot with love and hate that he has to turn it into something.

William’s depression, his mental illness, the way his brain doesn’t conform to society, his guilt, his understanding of his own misdeeds is so deep and his self-image so wholly negative, compared how virtually every other character in this series, even John, who barely knows him sees him, and especially compared to how the audience who adores him so much they overwhelmingly voted him their favorite character sees him.

We know he knows what he did was horrible. We are confronted with it constantly. And we are inclined to forgive him even when he might not, because we know despite it all, he has a solid moral center, a good core, the moral understanding of right from wrong. His depression is so all-consuming how could he not? Those things cause his depression.

Albert and William are the focal point of the villainy of the story in many ways: the two who started everything. The two who birthed James Moriarty, Lord of Crime. But while Albert and William may have started everything, they are not the only two with mental health issues.

Louis has always been quite stable. Anxious, to be sure, type A, very high strung. But not really mentally ill—everything he was ever anxious about was entirely reasonable (of course, I have an anxiety disorder myself, so my evaluation of that might be off—but still, worried Sherlock might ruin William’s plan, might lead to his death, might ruin something, worrying about William’s death, worrying about Milverton? All entirely reasonable, thank you). Informed by trauma, surely, but not necessarily mentally ill.

Moran, though? Louis’s behavior is informed by trauma, but Moran’s is poisoned by it.  That double-dose PTSD not only from the war, but from his actions in The Final Problem tore him apart, and we saw it tear him apart. His PTSD pushed him into crime the same way William and Albert’s mental health did.

When Moran first gets his character focus, when his personality and character is delved into properly, it’s to show his trauma and mental health issues. His character is deepened, given structure and reasoning and understand, by showing us his mental illness, the way Albert just was in chapter 62. The way William’s has been for several arcs now with his depression.

I find Moran particularly interesting, because he’s not the only character with Shell Shock: John is also a veteran, and has a psychogenic illness from his time at war. When you take those two, loyal bosom friends of William and Sherlock, who are also set to contrast and parallel each other, down to their mental health issues and neurodivergencies, it becomes very apparent how differently the two teams have portrayals of their illness. Of course, John’s not a villain. Sherlock, for all that he can commit horrible acts, is not a villain.

But Sherlock suffers from bouts of listlessness and gloom just as William does—and he hides it even less. He doesn’t quite manifest as traditional depression the way William does—it really reads more like manic depression—but Moran and John’s PTSD doesn’t manifest the same way either. And Moran’s physical disability rooted in something more concretely physical than John’s and his struggle much more debilitating. The way he suffered pushed him to do worse things than John ever felt pushed into.

But suffering, like it did with Albert and William, makes us feel closer to him. It makes them these powerful men who call themselves devils vulnerable.

Human.