#for a long time I've been depressed and on the edge of not being able to get out of bed

[lonefloric]

Hi there! if requests are open can i request a Sanemi x Hashira! reader (If you don’t do that then that’s alright! just normal Y/N will be fine).

Where sanemi comes back from a mission or just being out to find the reader in a blind rage. like everyone in the house has like fully just left. She throwing things, breaking things, but by the time he gets to her she’s just falling to her knees and sobbing. like she’s just done, she’s so overwhelmed and just so tired and done.

I’m in the mood for some fluff and comfort and i’m just having a really hard time rn i guess. (we love depression ❤️)

Have a nice day :)

Exhausted ✿

Sanemi x female hashira!reader

Sorry for this being so late and probably low quality, I've been sick and went to a Yung gravy concert so I've been resting a lot. I hope you still enjoy, and I completely understand the struggle of depression and breaking down from exhaustion :(( <3

Sanemi was exhausted, he just returned from a week-long mission and just wanted to go home and lay with you in bed. he trekked slowly along the path toward his estate, the usually short walk feeling long. Everything seemed normal at the estate from a distance, leaving him oblivious to the disaster inside the estate.

inside the estate, the entire interior was wrecked. broken glass and random tidbits strewn around everywhere. As Sanemi was getting ready to enter the estate gardens he heard a glass shatter, which made him slightly concerned. the shattering glass was followed by momentary silence before another glass shattered.

Now Sanemi was very concerned, his pace picking up and throwing the door open on high alert. he was ready for anything, his hand readied on his blade in case a demon somehow made it into the estate. his eyes flicked around the room before landing on your slumped form. you leaned against the wall heavy sobs wrecking your body. the entire room was a mess, with glass everywhere and dirt from the plants you cared for in your free time.

"what the hell happened?" sanemi wasn't worried about the mess in the room, more concerned for your mental state. you didn't look good at all, with messy hair, a tear-stained face, the scratch marks on your face from where he could tell you tugged at your hair and dragged your nails down your face. you finally noticed his presence after a moment, he stepped forward and caught you as you leaned towards him, carefully maneuvering both of your bodies to the floor.

"I'm so tired," you sobbed, "I'm overwhelmed from all the missions from the demon attacks increase. I'm so tired." sanemi didn't say anything, just listened and stroked your hair. he may be rough around the edges, but he really was a soft man. soon your sobs died down, you had cried all the tears in your body, now just leaning against Sanemi's chest.

"Let us go lay down," you nodded tiredly, sanemi lifted you up bridal style and carefully stepped around the mess on the floor, he would be worried about that later. carrying you to the bedroom he carefully helped you change into comfier sleepwear and laid down on the bed with you. you snuggled into his chest and quickly fell asleep.

sanemi's fingers slowly dragged down your face, gently moving hair from your face and watching your peaceful expression. seeing you so distraught hurt sanemi's heart. he would talk to the master later and see if you would be able to get a temporary break to be able to rest and recover.

[andhumanslovedstories]

Hi dear. I saw your post about pain management - thank you so much for it, it was an inspiring read, also it made it so obvious that you are truly passionate about being a nurse or rather, helping people and being present for those who need it the most. I wanted to ask - do you feel your job as a nurse affects the care you give in your interpersonal relationships and if yes, then how? rather negatively or positively? this is something I think about a lot bc my husband would love to study to become a nurse because he has a heart full of love and care, I knew he would be so good at it, but we are also having our firstborn soon and I just worry that being a nurse might be so draining that what if there is no energy for me and the baby. I really want to support my husband and I know this might be a silly question, but having read how you think I would so much love to hear your thoughts on this topic!

My big disclaimer for this is that I'm currently on medical leave for depression that wasn't CAUSED by my work but was definitely exacerbated by it and definitely worse when I was on shift. I've also been dealing with depression for a long time, and it's always interfered with my jobs at some point. The main problem is that it's a lot worse to have brain fog at a hospital than it is at an ice cream shop. I consider nursing to be a protective factor for my mental health SOMETIMES. It is work that I find meaning in and makes me proud. It can be an exhausting job but also a rewarding one. Extra compassion is also a double-edged sword: it can make you a better nurse, and it can also drain you that much faster because you get invested. Self-care is a part of the nursing code of ethics because the job in part because compassion fatigue is so easy to get if you aren't careful with your limits.

It is a draining job. I've begged off lot of things due to my schedule and feeling exhausted (but I am a homebody hermit). It's also a job a lot of people balance with raising children. My mom (who was already a nurse when I was born) liked the flexibility of the schedule. I work with dozens of nurses who have children. Many are mothers who are still breastfeeding infants. Some actively participate in their family life, some don't, and I don't know how much that has to do with their specific job. You know your husband. Does he already struggle to balance work/school/responsibilities and personal life? That's an issue with any career, but I do think healthcare is a profession where it can get even harder.

oops another nursing essay under the cut

(Plus, in terms of timing in with your newborn, congrats btw, your husband will have to go through nursing school first if he decides on this track, and minimum that will take like 15 months if he has all the pre-reqs and gets into an accelerated program. When it comes to dealing with a newborn, schooling might be more of a stumbling block than the job itself. I know a lot of people who consider nursing school to be one of the worst times of their lives. He might be able to do LPN [licensed practical nurse] instead of RN [registered nurse]. RN requires a bachelors and has a larger scope of practice and generally higher pay. I know almost nothing about getting your LPN license so he'll have to investigate that himself. I'll say the hospital systems that I've been in not only prefer RNs but often have requirements that people without a certain amount of experience MUST get their bachelors after X amount of time.)

I would also say not all nursing jobs are created equal in terms of labor, emotional and otherwise. My first job was in home health which got me somewhat emotionally enmeshed with the family I primarily worked with, but it also wasn't emotionally distressing. Nurses on our oncology floors and the ICU have a different experience than nurses who work in elective short-stay surgery. And different people find different things draining. I find working with end-of-life patients to be energizing in my work; a lot of people don't. My aunt worked pediatrics because she found working with children must less distressing than working with a geriatric population. Some people thrive in the chaos and speed of the emergency room, while I find it to be a tremendously depressing place that I hate floating to.

I think you'd have to ask my loved ones if really if it affects how much I care for them. Speaking personally for myself: I think it is overall positive for my relationships. I like the rhythm of nursing, I like the philosophy of nursing, I like who nursing makes me be. I like that nursing work is impossible to bring home. You can bring the emotions home, but you leave the patients at the hospital. It's simple for a bedside nurse to keep a strong division between their work self and their home self, but it's not necessarily easy. And again, I'm off work right now and probably will be for a bit longer so. yknow. He should make sure he's got a good support system in place.

Also some states and cities are far, far better than others when it comes to nursing regulations. Are there legally mandated staff ratios where you work? How many hospitals are in the area? Are any of them union? What does the compensation look like? What is the turnover rate? Nursing could be a great profession in general, but it might not be great in your particular location.

My last point would be that working in healthcare can make you feel...disconnected, I guess, from people who don't. Healthcare is such a culture unto itself. Sometimes I'd be like that meme of guy at party hanging out in the corner thinking, "they don't know yesterday I took care of a patient in a situation so fucked and depressing that it's now an ethics case." Or on the other hand, "they don't know that a patient called me their guardian angel and cried while they thanked me." The fact that healthcare is a different world is neither a pro nor a con, but something to consider. Depending on how you spend your days, his life might start to have parts that look very different from yours. I loved having a nurse as a mother and listening to her stories. My father banned all anecdotes involving poop and gore from his presence.

I hope you and your husband figure out the best way possible for him to use that compassion, which might be nursing or might not be. Either way, good luck to you guys!

[findmeinthefallair]

It's me again. The therapist/illustrator who can't stop squeaking and screaming about her beloved son Hunter.

I've been thinking nonstop about him finding the terrible grimwalker graveyard, imagining what would be going through my mind if I were him. Sifting through whatever moments, dialogue and frames that I can find from the existing material, along with references outside of the show, to formulate what an offscreen scene would've been like.. (And seeing if I can find editable and salvageable enough backgrounds so I could perhaps even depict this scene one day)

A soul like him who not only wants to help others, but also acquire knowledge:

heading back here to see the graveyard:

You can't tell me that this wouldn't still be on his mind, and he's even anxious while saying this below, scratching his face a little:

Whether he follows up on this or not, also depends on how he looks back on being shown this:

And is he just going to go cold turkey and totally drop these leads he was pursuing in the episodes before the finale? :

Three things prompted me to finally write this post:

@polyhexian's and @ashanimus's analyses of Hunter's fight scenes in Hunting Palismen and Eclipse Lake (links here and here, they're really cool to read!!), based on their years of experience with martial arts. Reading those was a revelation to me because learning about how high Hunter's skill level is, how in touch with his body he is by default, portrayed so well thanks to the crew...that allows me to make far more educated guesses about his mental health in the early stages of the pre-epilogue gap of about 4 years. Because he is so used to high activity and being on high alert, no thanks to having C-PTSD.

Observing how light and free Hunter's expressions are, and how transformed his demeanor became, in the epilogue sequence. That transformation is an indication to me of the magnitude of grief which had to be transformed within him. To be put back together, in order to be so radiant, generous and self-actualized in the epilogue...imagine how much had to be deconstructed and further broken beforehand. He wouldn't have room to fill his life up with all that amazing newness if the old isn't emptied out first.

This psychoeducational video by my fave author, also a practicing therapist, who specializes in traumatic grief: link. Hearing her address the topic of entering the second year after a bereavement vs. the first year, was interesting. Definitely confirms to me that Hunter wouldn't have carved Waffles until past the 2nd year of navigating his bereavement.

In the years that pass before the epilogue, Hunter will not be able to understand why the efforts he puts into all the rebuilding work, coordinating and leading others, and trying to have fun - only cycle back to him experiencing a mix of a restlessness and emptiness in the deepest layer of his mind. It'll exhaust his energy bit by bit. I bet he's going to generally look as tired as depressed Luz does below, even if he's had an acceptable hours of sleep per night:

That restlessness will be an awful psychological itch that he'll be unable to scratch, caused by losing Flapjack and now also Belos. This is the same as what happened with his anger in For the Future, except Belos was still alive back then. It will be harder to understand and messier to navigate the bereavement this time round. It'll be something gnawing into his soul which I really think only professional help can heal, especially since the show promotes that it's okay to not be okay, and more than okay to seek professional help (Steve and Lilith's conversation in Edge of the World).

He will be trying to claw his way out of that C-PTSD pit, but he'll be aware deep down that he simply cannot reach any emotional high points for long, and something will be blocking his feelings of connection with his loved ones. He won't feel nearly as free and easy the way he used to be in the human realm:

Having a routine like he used to in the Castle, and moving around a lot, was what helped him survive. However, he won't have the awareness that the shift resulting from Belos passing away has been at such a fundamental level: to the point that those old, supposedly tried-and-true methods no longer serve him in any positive way. At least, not until his mental health will be back in better shape.

As he puts in more and more effort to escape that restless emptiness, getting annoyed at himself because he doesn't know what's going on...he'll use up the rest of his strength and eventually crash. That itch won't be solved by going back to overworking tendencies, and like how it is with addiction cycles, he would need some kind of fix for the deep restlessness within. The answer? Productivity to feel useful, which we have seen even in his efforts to fix damaged clothing and well, making stuff in general.

Where the grimwalker graveyard comes in is...once he hears news about its existence, he will stubbornly insist to want to help in investigating it, saying he has already read a bunch of books about them, and can be useful, etc. Worse, if his offer to help to investigate is refused, he will do what he did in Eclipse Lake. Go to the location anyway, to fill that deep void within.

Old habits die hard.

I don't know if he may hear from King (who he'll be seeing fairly often, I think!), The Collector or even Kikimora about it. Since they were the three characters who went all the way down there in King's Tide, and The Collector already knew about these horrors for literal centuries. King and The Collector are also still young kids! Will they have the sensitivity and awareness about breaking this news to Hunter?!

On the other hand, I don't know how the timing will be with Darius, Raine and Eberwolf..Darius will want to get serious about investigating his mentor's disappearance. Once the searching and scouring extends to the location of the Head of the Titan, they will find the evidence staring them in the face. If they want to scour every inch of the Isles, there's also a high chance they'll find the godforsaken grimwalker lab.

Worst of all, Darius would be aware by then of how much Hunter loves to help out in operations like this to be productive. At the same time, Darius's own grief will surface even more, I'm not sure he'll be able to hide that, and Hunter is highly observant. If Darius is trying to hide his own priority of finding closure re: his mentor, I think Hunter will sense that.

Therefore I wonder if this will happen except it's Hunter with Darius:

and then this poor beloved skrunkly son of mine, who so famously said these words at the beginning of his arc:

is probably going to get reckless, and endanger his mental health...not unlike moments like this:

by venturing to the graveyard, whether stealthily or accompanying the grownups, because he'll rationalize it as "getting closure" and once again "being useful". Remember how used he is to moving around so much and being active, combined with growing up isolated so that asking for help can still be a foreign concept to him. He would be anxious about grinding to a halt, and he'd want to be on the move instead.

He may demand to see the graveyard, and holy Titan I'm not sure any dilemma will be as tricky for Camila and Darius to navigate as this one. Because preventing him from seeing something he already knows exists is, in a very twisted way, also an unhelpful form of avoidance. Avoidance is a hallmark criterion for diagnosing both PTSD and C-PTSD.

How far do they go in protecting him from himself? Where do they draw that line? They might reach a compromise where Camila and Darius accompany him there. Once he sees it, it'll hit harder than this:

Letting him see it means his new parents would have to fall with him, in the sense that they follow him to that emotional place: but while he figuratively does not have a safety harness when falling into this deep dark hole, Camila and Darius are equipped with harnesses a.k.a. higher maturity, less of a trauma history, and some tools to help him get better, navigate the trauma, and manage his symptoms.

Camila will have the warmth and sensitivity to catch and meet him as he falls (she interacts with animals in her profession, who don't have the capacity for human language, in a similar way to how serious trauma can't even be put into words at times: it makes you voiceless). Darius's shared past living in the Castle and grieving over his mentor will help Hunter not feel as alone once he has seen these horrors.

And because his heart generally became more open to receiving love and support,

I doubt he'll close himself off almost completely, the way he did in the first two-thirds of For the Future (god, remember these deleted storyboards??):

It wouldn't surprise me if he weeps and panics as soon as he sees the graveyard, and his parents give him maximum support through that breakdown. As complicated as it would be for Camila and Darius to give in to his desire to see the graveyard, a response like this from him - a child seeking attachment with proper timing - is a good sign of growing into healthy attachment with parental figures.

It is an arguably better response than one of the hardest aspects of C-PTSD: where the outpouring of grief only happens after a delay, sometimes a significant delay, at very inconvenient or strange times. Hell...if I were Hunter, I'd probably want Camila and Darius to just hold me close in wordless silence for half an hour until my initial distress and shock passes.

If I use King - a child who is securely attached to Eda, who's definitely had a more stable upbringing - as a control experiment here, he could have the appropriate response immediately in Echoes of the Past and expressed his emotional needs clearly enough:

Whereas this is what Hunter has to now learn, at twice King's age, as he settles in with new parents who take care of him instead of mistreating him the way Belos did. Hell, I can't imagine what kind of Belos punishment awaited him if he cried to demand attachment.

(I need to use more King scenes as a comparison to Hunter's upbringing in my next metas! I realize this can make my explanations clearer)

Anyway, what may happen next after he can't unsee the graveyard is...Hunter will then swing to the other extreme of high activity. I.e. being passive, physically inactive and psychologically crashing into depression, which may translate into habits such as oversleeping (catching up on all that lost sleep...but at what cost?). Supposedly sliding deeper into the C-PTSD pit. A place from which he has to express the desire to seek the forms of help he needs.

Remember that this kid has only known extremes for most of his life. Until he settles in properly with his found family and attends therapy, he has no clear reference point for more balanced approaches in living.

The trauma he went through is a quadruple whammy for a 16-year-old who just survived growing up in a cult. It would be so much. I can't see him not falling into months of deep dark depression, as unfortunate as this sounds.

Grieving over Flapjack, grieving over Belos, over his childhood/upbringing, and now a grisly memory of his predecessors who didn't make it (to add to what he saw in Belos's mindscape). I simply cannot see him handling a load like this without a highly-equipped and sensitive professional, paired with his support network of family, friends and even possibly the wider community at times. Especially now that we've seen him in action during the epilogue.

The epilogue sequence would've had a different feel (and in my opinion, a not-so-good feel) for me if Dana had established that the grimwalker graveyard was still untouched after those 3.5-4 years and if Hunter never found out about it. Something like that is different compared to Dana mentioning in the recent Post-Hoot that in the he does not know about Caleb and Evelyn, or that he is related to the Clawthornes. Mysteries like the Clawthorne heritage can remain an eerie secret that only us in the audience know about, but I wouldn't feel comfy if this were the case for the graveyard as well.

To quote @idlescree's video essay about Hunter's death (link), the show's writers didn't pull any punches when it came to Hunter's development arc. Which means they had to take his story to the "categorically appropriate place for him to overcome" his greatest challenges.

Something tells me that with respect to the grimwalker graveyard and the avoidance theme in C-PTSD recovery, Hunter would've had to put in more work to confront a number of terrifying foes even beyond his Thanks to Them speech. One of which was the graveyard containing the remains of his predecessors.

PS: This is a spontaneous post which branches out from my giant post-finale meta (link) that I pinned to my blog, I suppose.

[mdhwrites]

how do you feel about disability rep in the owl house? Anyway it could've been done better? Cause as someone who is neurodivergent (autism) I felt like Luz's arc had unfortunate implications ('shes literally neurodivergent and a Minor' type vibes and mixed in with the whole fantasy vs reality themes and it came off as telling neurodivergent people to reject reality or like we wouldn't be hindered in the slightest by our disabilities in xyz worlds- which feels gross) but I could be reading into this too much. I also don't like how Hunter lost his 'disability' yeah you can compare it to getting a pacemaker or a mobility aid with his problem not being fixed but made better but that 'pacemaker' came at the cost of his best friend and his whole possession situation felt gratuitous to me. I'm really interested in seeing how Hunter could've been done better if you have any ideas

So I am going to try to be as calm and kind on this subject as I can. I feel like I've let a lot of heat come into my blogs lately that I try not to because I've been in distress. I am actually, legally disabled after all. It is the vast majority of my income, not helped by how randomly my brain will just break and I will have no way to get it to work again. I'm on the brink of another who knows how long run of my brain no longer functioning and am clawing to try and keep it together so I can do SOMETHING besides just ramble in these blogs. So I can keep writing or streaming rather than vanish. So this topic is important to me to put it extremely mildly.

To talk about this with The Owl House we kind of have to talk about each angle it takes on this subject one at a time. Eda and Hunter are two sides of the coin for this representation after all. I know you bring up Luz and yes, nuerodivergence can be disabling but if we want to talk about disability, I don't think Luz is actually a part of the conversation. If she is, it's for the theoretical representation of depression in S3 when she is at her worst as a character. People like to claim trauma and depression for why it's okay that she's constantly lying, or why she tries to abandon an entire world despite admitting it's her fault it's in trouble. She is her absolute worse self in that time and... If that is the rep we get for mental illness, I'll wait another five years. I don't want someone who is entirely apathetic to others and makes excuses for their actions to be the one who represents me, not when I hear that shit from assholes on the news too much already.

We'll start positive and head down from there. Eda actually starts out great. With regular medication and self care, she is able to live a fairly normal life. I have admittedly criticized in the past that there is no cure for the curse, that Eda is a slowly ticking time bomb who only through death will not end up harming all of those around her eventually, but I actually want to rescind that. As a dramatization of the anxiety that especially mental disability brings about of that day when everything breaks, even if it never comes, it works. It's within the confines of the fantasy genre and isn't demonized but sympathized that she has to work so hard to hold this back. But she can and she stands strong despite it, stronger than most in her situation in a way that is inspirational.

Then we get our first slip up with her at the end of S1. In order to find reprieve, to come back from the edge... She shares her disability. Her peace of mind, her ability to be a human being, comes at the cost of another person. I say slip up though because one could argue it's dramatization of the communal help that many disabled people need. I worked as a Home Care Aid at one point for someone in a wheelchair. My own family helps me because I am a complete mess of a person. I do my best to be able to function entirely on my own but when you are literally incapable of being a functional human being... Yeah, help is good. Do I like how high of a cost it comes for Lilith? Not really, nor the fact that she becomes disabled in the same way because some people do think disability and mental illness is contagious but I'm willing to let it slide for the sake of dramatization.

Affearances genuinely course corrects to show the small ways in which Eda deals with her illness not just with medication but also understanding of it. Her need to stay calm, the ways she tries to center herself, all so the medication is more of a stabilizer and last resort. That is genuinely good.

Then... A point I'm torn on. In the episode itself, I do not mind the formation of Harpy Eda. The process of coming to not just deal with but accept your disability is big and hard and you can come out the other side feeling like a new person. One could even see the Harpy form like that and even the deals we make with our disability to let ourselves do more like in Eclipse Lake. I'll even retract old heat I gave this for implying your disability can be a superpower because it fits within the genres of fantasy. I will even admit part of this kindness comes from writing this myself and realizing that it's just more fun and exciting to let the disability have upsides to it rather than treat it as purely debilitating.

No, my bigger issue comes from the fact that it is the end of it as a disability. Eda is essentially cured besides some lip service and if they were going to go that route, they should have just said it. In the finale, she loses to the curse in a deeper way than we have EVER seen before... And then freed from it like it's just a snap of her fingers. Harpy Eda is literally just a super form, not her having to genuinely deal with the illness, especially as it just becomes the way she fights. I do approve of the idea of showing that you CAN get better from this stuff, some people do, but it makes me wish they'd just said that. Just admitted that her coming to accept it was the final step. Would that have been realistic? No but I've showcased how many times already how much this rep relies on dramatization? Give us the feel good ending of Eda having mastered it, explicitly, instead of just letting it be up in the air and used for cheap drama in the finale. That makes the whole thing feel almost exploitative because if I lose it like Eda lost it in the finale... I can't just turn that off. I get to be terrified and shaken and have that day firmly implanted into my mind for the rest of my life. For the show, it was shock value instead and I'm not okay with that.

Speaking of things I'm not okay with, let's talk about the other side of this coin: Hunter. Now remember that I was willing to give grace to some elements... Except now they're reinforced by a second character sometimes and that makes it a lot harder to shrug off. We'll get there when we get to Flapjack though.

No, where I actually want to start with for him isn't even that he has a disability, it's actually with Willow. She tries to make it out like being a late bloomer is the same as NEVER being able to do this. Like telling a paraplegic person you understand their pain because you had a cast once. I've had someone go "Yeah, it's hard for me to get out of bed too but I always manage it," while trying to motivate me to just power through anxiety that was LITERALLY CHOKING ME and I wanted to punch them in the face. And this is the start of your ROMANCE PLOT. The core thing that tells the audience that these two are going to get close and get together.

In one scene, it becomes SUPER clear that there is no one on this writing team that actually understands what the fuck it means to be disabled. The nice portion of the blog is over.

Okay, let's actually pull back. I will give Hunter this: In his early scenes, he genuinely comes across as someone who has adapted to his physical disability and the limitations of it. His staff is his aid device and he makes up for lack of magic with increased athleticism. He is by all means, the most dextrous person we see in the entire show and genuinely, the show never takes that away from him. It's also just really easy to forget because the show doesn't exactly give a lot of chances for it to shine, not while it's mostly shitting on him or having the trained soldier lose to others, if he even seems much more physically capable than those around him at all.

But hey, how about first that aid device! We do recognize Luz takes his crutch, right? Like his staff is what takes away his handicap versus the rest of the Isles. That helps him overcome the limitations of his physical disability and an entire episode has the main character steal it from him and blackmail him with it. He is mildly annoyed about this for the entire episode, almost like not having the way that helps him feel normal doesn't mean much to him. It'd be like if in Affearances, Eda didn't get mad at her mom for taking her elixir because her elixir is the equivalent to Hunter's staff. Gwyndolen is demonized for this action while we're supposed to be on Luz's side because Hunter is a bad man who will do bad things if allowed his staff back. That... That isn't okay to me.

Btw, this isn't even the only time this happens in the show. Belos asks Luz to call him Philip. She calls him Belos. The show is really all for just being entirely disrespectful to someone's identity and personhood so long as you are morally better than them. What the fuck?

For the rest of S2, there's a really, REALLY bad flaw with having Huntlow be his ship. EVERY single one of Willow's episodes to some extent features how being a late bloomer, having struggled/struggling with magic, makes her feel like an outcast. That despite the fact that really she just wasn't great at this skill, she gets a lot of dramatic weight to this. Hunter... Doesn't. His disability is almost entirely ignored to prioritize the fact that he's a Grimmwalker or his relationship with Belos. It is just not a part of his character despite the girl he is blushing at explicitly making it clear that this society ABSOLUTELY looks down on Hunter. That not having magic makes you be less than anyone else. Hell, we get more of this from EDA AND LILITH in the first episode of S2 than we ever get from Hunter. The prejudice they are treated with and their struggles to deal with it while Hunter is at best all subtext.

This admittedly starts getting into how this show fucking hates men and how they are almost all at some point a joke, villain or both in their time. So... Yeah, Hunter not being given respect for his disability while the women are is hardly surprising.

The big thing that shatters EVERYTHING is of course Flapjack's sacrifice. You remember how I had to kind of work around how to make Eda making someone else disabled okay? Well now we have a second time where a disabled character is 'cured' to some extent of their disability... By the suffering of someone close to them. This time with literal death.

One of the worst prejudices that disabled people, of any sort but especially mentally disabled/ill people, have to face is that we are burdens and menaces to society. That we are more prone to hurting people than regularly abled people. That there is a price to having us around that everyone would not have to pay otherwise. If there is one thing you CANNOT do with your disability allegory, it is to make the disability cost someone else their life, figuratively or literally, unless you REALLY plan to examine what the fuck that means. TOH does both, once with Flapjack and once with Lilith respectively.

In order to be 'normal', it literally costs Hunter the life of his best friend. In order to be saved from the extremes of her illness, Eda cripples her sister. What the fuck are you supposed to take away from that? And there is no way to square this with it just being a fantastical representation of something. It's not just making the consequences of disability more extreme or reflecting the shared burden that can sometimes be our existence and our need for support. Being cured should be joyous. Instead, it's melancholic, not for the grief of your existence inherently changing, Hunter is meant to purely celebrate that he now has magic, but because it came at extreme cost to other people.

In that one moment, paired with Lilith, I can't approve of TOH as disabled representation. There is no way for me to ever square it, just like how Luz using depression as an excuse to be the worst version of herself makes me not okay with her as nuerodivergent representation. Not when it doesn't explore this stuff and even tries to celebrate and say this is correct, since Luz is never criticized for her awful behavior during her angst arc and Hunter is made out to be better without his disability, no matter the cost.

I am fine if you don't want to show clean or nice representation of these things. Not all disabled people are nice. Not all nuerodivergent people are functional. There is a wide spectrum to our experiences but to take the worst elements of your representation and give them the most narrative weight is BAD. Even Eda suffers from this. Her taking care of herself is mostly in passing. Way more weight is given to Eda not being able to take care of herself. To how missing her medication by even an hour makes her a danger to everyone around her, or even susceptible to manipulation like when King uses her transforming 80% into the Owl Beast. Suddenly, the fact that she manages her condition like many disabled people do feels really overshadowed by the constant reminders, and literal showings, of the danger she poses to those she cares about most. The cost of allowing us to continue to participate in society, the damage we do to others, the harm that comes from a bad day from us, is so much harder to ignore when those are the elements that your work decides to focus on. It especially sucks because it hardly focuses on the pain and incapability of the condition, just the danger. It's all about what it will do to others and not the agony it inflicts on the person who has it.

TOH is bad with almost all of its themes and attempts to be progressive and this is no different. See you next tale.

======+++++======

I am going to assume that it's the same person who sent me essentially a variation of this ask like five times. If you are that worried about me responding, the Discord is where you will get a MUCH faster response, especially since I am kind of trying to pull back from TOH criticism. It has been genuinely kind of nice to talk about other things recently.

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

[revasserium]

a rumination on falling in love; aka the terrifying and strange reality of "dream girl" becoming "real girl"

or, what happens when an only child who has only ever loved in fiction falls in love in real life instead

this is not for you. unless, of course. you, like me, have felt like this before. which is to say, this might be for you. but it most definitely is, 100%, for me. so read on if you'd like. or, close out and move right along.

i am very lucky, i think, to have had the childhood that i had -- only child, two loving parents. but not only that, two loving parents who were good at loving and also good at parenting (which are two very distinct and different things and somehow, at least in my semi-limited exposure to people around my age, is becoming rarer and rarer these days). i am lucky to have been allowed to grow as i have -- to never question that i am loved, unconditionally and endlessly, to never question whether or not i have something -- because of course it's mine -- i've got no siblings to have to share anything with.

now, to some, that might be a sad, lonely thing, but i never thought about it that way. because i was never taught to think about it that way. and contrary to popular belief, it hasn't made me (or at least so i think) stingy or "bad at sharing" -- it's actually made me rather an over-sharer. i always have snacks at the office, i try to offer advice freely, i spot dinners/outings when i can, i like the joy it brings to share things not only to the people being shared with, but also to me -- the person doing the sharing.

but the double-edged sword of only-child-dom in upper-middle class america is time -- the huge, gaping excess of it, giant swaths of it after school, great big chunks of it on the weekends, the seemingly unbridgeable chasm between turning off the light and falling asleep. later, i'd learn that undiagnosed adhd and very high performing manic depression are to blame for most of my vibrating sense of need to fill every hour of every day with some kind of productivity (this, unironically, is why i love new york city -- the frenetic energy of it matches my mental wavelength so that i can feel "productive" even when i'm just walking down the street or sitting in a bar).

but back then, i -- and by extension my lovely parents -- tried to fill it with stuff -- 2 different art classes, ballet, swimming, piano, debate club, singing, chinese school, and of course, with my still yet unfilled hours -- reading and writing. to say i was raised by the books i read would be an understatement. to say i am nothing more than a massive conglomerate of those characters that resonated most with me in those books would be parenthetical to the fact that i'm also built by all those characters i've ever admired or wanted to be. i am, in the most cliche, literal, non-lampshaded sense "that nerdy book girl" who made it her entire fucking personality to be... that nerdy book girl. and this, amidst the stratospheric rise of "not like other girls" media and rhetoric -- it was not healthy (it still isn't), but it was a large part of who i was. and a lingering part of who i am today.

my overactive, adhd-driven imagination served me well, then. into the stories i delved, and what i couldn't find in my normal every day life, i found in narrative. long before the tiktok-ification of "book boyfriends" came the voices in my head that sounded like all the would-be book boyfriends i'd ever have -- everyone from edward cullen to kakashi to four (that one guy from divergent who only has like 4 fears, which in retrospect is so, so cringe, but alas) to fictionalized versions of one direction members. the list goes on. i used to be able to hold entire conversations, play out entire scenes with these mental constructs with impudent ease. spend hours in my room by myself just imagining.

it was like astral projection -- my body, here, my mind and my soul, somewhere else entirely. and this i believe (to this day) is the core of a lot of my writing and creativity. and also the core of a lot of my philosophies and beliefs. the ability to sink into a dream, a scene, a story.

and then. i fell in love.

and sure, it would be much too cliche to say that misery breeds good art so a happy artist would (at best) produce mediocre art/writing/whatever. because i've also seen fantastic art produced by very, very happy artists. the sad truth is only that it's much rarer than the alternative of the painfully mainstream tortured artist.

but to some degree, i think there's an inkling of truth in that saying. because having a real-life boyfriend, with all the real-life machinations and strings of having said real-life boyfriend has made it, somehow, much harder to access that old imaginary part of me. like a child growing up and losing the ability to "make believe" the way they used to. except, i know it's still there. there are still moments where i touch it, where i dip my toes in and it always feels like coming home.

and it's more than just the normal adult-ish responsibilities of going to work and paying bills, making dinner and shopping for groceries. doing laundry and investing in your roth ira. because before real-life boyfriend, i still did those things and i was still able to seamlessly get to that "elsewhere place". somehow, it is the physical presence of real-life boyfriend that seems to act as a "grounding agent". he is home, so i can't go to that other place. or, i can kind of get there, but i've always still got one foot steeped in reality.

it is not a necessarily good or bad thing, just an observation at most. but it does create this new "space" for the "want" of that elsewhere. for the want to being able to slip into that creative asphodel like i used to -- blink and i'm there. so i find myself often sitting at my desk, wishing, and then wondering what it means that i can't. that it isn't always and immediately accessible to me anymore.

perhaps absolute solitude was the unquestioned prerequisite for so long that i'd never noticed it until the solitude was no longer available to me. or perhaps the book-boyfriends are just shy creatures, afraid of the blaring daylight that real-life boyfriend might shed on their ultimate two-dimensional beings.

or perhaps that was always a "safe space" that i'd created for myself, and now real-life boyfriend has created a safe space for me too, and the venne-diagram of the two space spaces overlap just so, making a less singular space of each of them in turn. i don't know, but it's an interesting thought.

it's always struck me, now thinking back, that i've never been even remotely interested in having a real-life relationship before now. but that i've also never questioned if i wanted the current one that i'm in, if this was "the one" or if it was "good for me". and in that too, i know i am very lucky. few people can say that they struck gold the first time they've ever tried.

i know for a fact i wouldn't be this happy, have this good of a life if real-life boyfriend weren't here. he has made me better in ways that i do not have words to describe. but i'm also terrified of the earthen grounding-ness of him. i've spent my entire childhood and most of my adult life with my head in the clouds, taking the necessary trips back down to earth when i had to but... it feels strange to be "here" more and more. there's a hole inside of me where "that" heaven should be.

but two things can be true -- i am happy here; i still yearn for that elsewhere.

[littledemondani]

imagine jason beinn mean to yn in front of eddie, normally he wouldn’t care but it’s the fact he poked fun at yn for liking something nerdy

first of all, i'm so sorry this took me months to get out. fell into a bad depression, got writer's block, haven't been able to get back into the swing of things. not sure how i feel about it, but i love this idea so much i had to get it out.

warnings: fem!reader, jason and reader are in a relationship, cheating, slight angst (tho not entirely sure if it qualifies but whatever) jason is a dickhead, eddie being protective

word count: 1k

series masterlist

jason approached your at your locker to walk you to your math class. usually, you perk up when you see him, a smile so big it reaches your eyes as you throw your arms around him. but lately you haven't been as excited to see him. the past few days you've had your nose stuck in a book, reading it whenever you had free time. before class, at lunch, after you've finished your classwork, even the times jason has called you to tell you goodnight before bedtime.

he can't say he's particularly surprised at the fact you cut the world out when you read. it's a thing you've always done, even before the two of you took your relationship to the next level. but it is something that he wishes you could put down every once in a while. especially when he's around.

you don't pick your head up at the sound of his 'hey babe. ready to go?' you grab your backpack off of the ground, sling it over your shoulder, and walk off.

jason mumbles an, 'okay then' and speeds up a little to catch up with you. the silence is awkward, something jason isn't used to, and it makes him uneasy, his patience literally teetering on the edge.

"what are you reading?" he asks, hoping it engages some reaction out of you.

"the fellowship of the ring," you respond, eyes never leaving the page.

he has no idea what you're talking about. even though you've explained to him before, multiple times actually, that the lord of the rings series is your absolute favorite and you can reread it over and over without ever getting bored.

"is that some romance novel or something?" he inquires.

that causes you to slam the book closed, turning your head to look up at him with furrowed brows.

"what?" he scoffs, genuinely confused by your reaction.

"you're really asking me that?" you deadpan. "i've told you before the lord of the rings is a fantasy novel. god, do you even listen to me when i talk about the things i like?"

jason is taken aback by your sudden change in attitude. though the slight concern he felt doesn't last very long and is replaced by anger and a need to lash out back at you to save his ego.

"i would if the stuff you were into wasn't so fucking weird," he counters, glaring at you in an attempt to make you seem small.

it works.

your resolve crumbles down. despite knowing deep down that jason felt this exact way, you never expected it to hurt as much as it does to hear him say it out loud. your eyes well with unshed tears, chest tightening and feeling as if it's closing in on itself, breaths growing a little heavier. your mind is blank, unable to come up with a response to give him.

"do you have any idea the type of crap the guys give me because of you?" he shouts, not caring that you're both in the middle of the hallway with a bunch of students scrambling to get to class on time. "they wonder what i'm even doing dating a girl like you. call you a freak. it's fucking embarrassing."

the tears stream down your face, staining your skin with black from your mascara. you can't even bother to look at him anymore, glancing down at your scuffed up converse.

a million emotions are hitting you all at once - anger, sadness, shame, disappointment are all at the forefront. you sniffle, rubbing the tears away with the wrist of your jacket.

"sorry," you say softly. "i'm sorry you can-."

"hey!" a voice from behind jason shouts. "i always knew you were a piece of shit, but picking on your girlfriend is a new low, carver. even for you."

eddie stares daggers at jason. he knows firsthand how cruel jason can be, having been on the receiving end of his bullying more times than he can count on both hands, but never did he think jason would turn that hatred onto you.

and he wasn't going to just stand by and let that happen.

"stay the fuck out of it, munson," jason warns through gritted teeth. "this doesn't concern you."

"see, that's where you're wrong," eddie counters, moving to step in between you and jason. "it absolutely does concern me. you think i'm gonna let you get away with treating her like that? what, because she has different interests than you? get the fuck over yourself."

"eddie," you plead, pulling on his jacket sleeve in order to get his attention. "it's okay, really, just drop it. please?"

curious eyes watch the situation unfolding before them, but neither of you seem to care or notice.

"i'm not gonna tell you again," jason seethes, stepping closer to eddie as he does so. "fuck off."

"or else what?" eddie smirks. "whatcha gonna do, carver? hit me?"

the final bell rings and that seems to snap jason back to the present. he scoffs a little, adjusting the strap of his backpack on his shoulders. "nah," he responds, shaking his head. "you're not fucking worth it."

he walks off in the opposite direction of your class to head to his own, not so much as saying a word to you or even acknowledging your presence.

you let go of a shaky breath, swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat.

"you okay?" eddie asks, making sure jason was completely gone before brushing his thumb along your cheek tenderly.

"you didn't have to do that," you say.

"'course i did," he replies, giving you a soft smile. "no one talks to my girl that way."

butterflies erupt in your stomach and you can't help but chuckle. "yeah, well, thanks."

"anytime," eddie winks at you.

he holds his arm out for you to grab hold of, which you happily do, and walks you the rest of the way to your class.

"i really thought you were gonna hit him," you say, glancing a look at his face.

"shit, i almost did," he confesses. "how awesome would that have been?"

"okay calm down," you giggle, waiting for him as he opens the classroom door for you.

"what? it would've been!"

[olderthannetfic]

I was on the edges of TOG fandom, though thankfully was never active beyond lurking, as is my wont. It went downhill so fast, and as someone else in the notes of a recent (as of Aug. 21) post mentioned, it was just so bad, and so depressing, that people now just want to forget the movie or fandom ever existed. There was no joy in the expose. The most I felt was some relief, but mostly I felt sick and so tired. Too many people were hurt for anything else.

I lurked in a couple of servers and read the fics. Some of my favorites have been deleted, both because the author's received grim harassment, and because people have a horrible response to even thinking back to their time in that fandom. There was something incredibly insidious and the perpetrators of it are still keeping on like nothing happened or changed. I've blocked most, but a couple have popped up randomly, and they're as self righteous and cruel as ever, despite (or perhaps because of) how many people they directly harmed. Last I saw, one of the most vocal is being just as vocal about End Racism OTW, and harassing others as they tend to do, all while claiming they're fighting racism. Now, where have I heard that before? 

I'm almost 40, and have been in fandom for a long time. I've seen a lot of terrible people and a lot of pointless discourse. I've always been a lurker, but if you lurk long enough, you see a lot. I've lurked in Star Wars, The Witcher (books, games, and show), ASOIAF, HP, Hamilton, small fandoms, large fandoms, anime fandoms, show fandoms, book fandoms, basically everything. I was on livejournal when Msscribe was pulling her bullshit and was in Hamilton for their shit. I've seen a lot of fandom nastiness. 

The Old Guard may be the worst of it. I'm sure there's some reasoning, especially considering it was popular when everyone was going insane from COVID, but no matter the reason, I have no interest in the fandom, have blocked countless people, seen more people delete their fics/tumblrs over the harassment they received, and so much more. It was terrible, and as people have pointed out, ruined lives and mental health for countless people. 

Top/bottom discourse is common in many fandoms, and I've seen almost every iteration of it. This was beyond that, and I will never quite be able to wrap my head around how cruel people were, or how cruel they continue to be. There's no schadenfreude in any of this, as was pointed out. There couldn't be. 

I can't even be annoyed so many fics ended up deleted. Given the fandom, I'm surprised more weren't.

--

[lucystark12]

i very very rarely listen to running up that hill but i am right now and it's just like holy shit YOU HAD TO BE THERE (weird reflection post that i just randomly started writing and couldn't stop for some reason about my depression lol that was supposed to be cute and lovey about my love for stranger things but ended up being really somber)

i didn't immediately watch season 4 when it came out on may 27th, because friday may 27th was the day that i came back from a week long class trip to the deep depths of northern washington (hell on earth, no mans land, if you will) and since my parents were out of town for my mom's 50th birthday, i was going straight to my best friend's house to stay over for the weekend. that i did. my best friend everly, whom i was staying with, always falls asleep really early, so at some point in the early hours of may 28th, probably around 1 am, i pulled out my phone and starting watching stranger things. i had spent the entire spring rewatching after all.

i got to where chrissy got possessed and immediately had to turn it off because i was in seventh grade and the bone cracking thing scared me to death (this was before i watched GOT for the first time, my tolerance for gore was not as high as it is now)

such began the first of many times where i'd neglect watching my favorite show for no reason. i did it with house of the dragon season 2 as well. so, a few days later i left everly's house and my grandma came to stay at my house with me while my parents were finishing out the rest of their trip.

at this point, the whole internet was already talking about running up that hill. it was that sunday when i decided i had to watch the show. who the fuck was i kidding? i loved stranger things. problem was, my grandma is and will always be the worst tv hog in the history of the world, so with a shitty disaster movie playing in the background, i put in one airpod and finally started watching stranger things season four.

this was a particularly rainy spring for portland, something that literally scarred me at the time because i was nearing the end of the worst depressive episode of my entire life, and the sun not being able to peek out of the trees like it had in late may last summer and every summer before that was something so insignificant yet something that really was sending me off the edge. i didn't realize how far off the edge i already was at the time. my other best friend had just started taking medication for her depression, which manifested very differently in ways that mine didn't. she was mad. she was resentful. between the few moments that she was the same laughing, loving girl i'd always known, she hated me and our other friends and hated herself more. my cousin likewise had depression so bad he couldn't get out of bed. he hadn't been to school in three months. i wasn't like that. i thought i was happy comparatively. i was diagnosed with OCD the year before and thought that was an explanation. it took getting a new therapist and unpacking my behavior back then to understand what was really happening. i never cried. when i did, it was violent. it came in bursts that lasted all afternoon. i started and i didn't stop until i fell asleep. i threw things, i refused to talk to anybody. i was failing math, which i've never done before. i couldn't understand a thing. i didn't even care to try. i hated myself. the only thing i ate was a bowl of craisins at school every day because i couldn't physically force myself to eat. i thought i was just tired even though i got ten hours of sleep every day. i was always exhausted. my therapist couldn't diagnose me because after years of being taught i had to be perfect, i refused to tell even her that there was something wrong. i thought i was stupid, i thought i was ugly, i thought i was worthless. i thought i was just experiencing what it's like to be twelve years old.

so, another rainy and overly misty sunday afternoon passed me by as i reached the ending of the fourth episode, and finally, the fated song that i'd been hearing all over tiktok and didn't quite understand yet started playing out of max's walkman. i watched the entire scene with my grandma barking questions at me about why i was tearing up.

running up that hill was my most played song of 2022, just ahead of africa by toto.

now i'm not going to say that stranger things brought me out of said depressive episode, because it didn't. the four months ahead of me were four of the hardest of my life still to this day, just as the six before them had already been. but i've grown a lot since then, and two years later when i was in spain alone, sick and crying, experiencing a little week long bout of similar feelings to the ones i felt when i first watched season four, the show weirdly managed to find me again.

the week before i had left to study abroad in spain i had learned that i got a B+ in math instead of an A- in math because my teacher wouldn't round up my 89.9%. it might seem trivial especially because a B+ is incredible process from the algebra i had nearly failed for the second time in the row the year before, but sometimes things like that can be enough to cause somebody to fall back into old habits and feelings. estranged from everybody and everything i'd turned into coping mechanisms for hard times like these when i was literally half the world away, i didn't know what to do. so, when i was in my dorm with food poisoning from a salad i'd eaten the night before, i decided to press on the byler analysis video that had popped up in my youtube feed. such began what i've been calling my "stranger things renaissance"- a second stranger things phase that's been going on since late june.

not to sound overly bylerish, but i've been seeing a lot of parallels between this summer and the summer season four came out. for reasons out of my control, i've been forced to spend a lot of time alone. this summer when i've started feeling lonely, i've taught myself that rather than overthink, to channel it into something else like writing, or doing something that will calm me down. now when i'm home alone and haven't seen a friend in a few days, i'm not sad anymore. i think "well damn" and then i move on with my night. i'm no longer depressed. with the help of my new therapist, i've gotten really close to growing out of my OCD. i no longer have to pray every night. i don't wake up in a cold sweat if i go to bed at 10:31 instead of a "perfect number" like 10:30 or 10:35. i rarely lock my bedroom door anymore. and no, it's not perfect yet. i'm not "cured"- i still have my crying episodes. i still have moments, even though they're few and far between now, where i feel the same way i did back when i was twelve.

but i'm moving on. things have shifted in my life. i've grown up and this show has with me. i started watching it on halloween of 2019 when i was in fifth grade and my friends and i did the "goodbye mike" trend in my basement. i watched the first three episodes that night and finished it for the first time during covid. it was with me through that hard time back in the day, and for some strange (haha) reason, it's with me now, and will probably continue to be with me until the show ends, because like as typically happens when i fall back into obsession with something i liked when i was a little younger, (the mcu, harry potter which remanifested in the marauders) it becomes more than a phase, but a part of me in some weird way.

stranger things may have its flaws and it might not end the way i wanted it to, but for the rest of my life it will be special to me regardless. i'm finally for the first time in my life older than the characters. i was seven when season one came out, eight when season two, ten during season three, 12-13 and season four, and will be 16 in season five.

so thanks, stranger things, for helping me, and thanks even more for showing her that there's nothing wrong with the many different aspects of her that she'd been led to believe were wrong. as corny as it sounds, she couldn't have done it without you 🫶

(say hi to baby lucy, because it's always more fun with pictures, and because depression can happen to anybody no matter what they might look or act like on the surface)

rip 2022 lucy, you would have loved the byler sunset pictures that you somehow would have found a way to relate to reddie and your best friend that you were highkey in love with. you also would have loved mike wheeler if i could explain who he really is to you because said in an EARLY analytical essay that "All I really gained from season four though was that I absolutely hate older Mike and that I wish he would’ve died instead of Max." in the same essay you say you wish you could throw mike of a cliff. oh the irony. (please laugh)

ps: if you ever find yourself feeling anything like what i described in this post, know that it gets better even if it seems like that's what everybody says and it seems like it never will. there were times back then when i didn't even know if i'd make it to the age i am right now, and now i'm at one of the happiest points ive ever been in my life. know that even if we've never talked before, i love you and i believe in you. my blog is always a safe place if anybody out there ever needs anybody to talk to.

[hannibalruinedme]

Hannibal and my life long suffering

I know I'm late. I know you all have been in my shoes and survived. (or did you?)

I'll keep it very simple. I'm a very normal person. Once in a blue moon I stumble upon a piece of media so beautiful that I let it take over my whole soul. The media I consume, consumes me.

Long story short: I've finished watching Hannibal 2 days ago and the ache I feel in my heart is PHYSICAL. If anyone ever told me that I had yet to discover something which would make me feel the way hannibal made me feel, I wouldn't have believed in them. But boy I was wrong. I just know that this masterpiece of a series will forever torment me slowly. I'll never be able to NOT to feel pain whenever I come across Hannigram edits. It'll forever have this tormenting yet not welcomed grip on my heart. Am I suffering? Deeply. Do I want it to go away? No. Do I need more? A thousand times yes. This has to one of the best Achillean shows out there and we did deserve more of it. We still do.

It feels tragically unfair that there is little to no hope for a season 4. Yes I know, the s3 ending is very beautiful in it's own way. But was it worth giving up hannigram over? I don't think so. I wholeheartedly believe nothing will ever HIT home as much as Hannigram does. Once you get the taste for it, nothing ever feels the same.

I'm completely shattered and depressed. I'm not being dramatic when I say that I sigh all day and stay up late watching old Hannigram contents over and over. I've literally texted Bryan (lol) on Instagram begging for more and I Google "Is there any hope for Hannibal s4" 5 times a day. Even tho the fannibals are always thriving (I love you), seeing a content which has "8 years ago" marked under it, makes me feel terribly lonely. It's deeply saddening to me. The phase I'm in right now, I don't believe I'll ever stop waiting for season 4. I've realised, after doomscrolling on reddit, that most of you've accepted the fact that it's over. Well, good for you. I hope one day I'll be able to reach that stage and be happy with how things ended.

But not for now, right now, I'm on edge. I wake up with knots in my stomach and go through my day feeling miserable. (it might sound extreme to some of you but if you've ever fallen in love with fiction deeply, you'd know). So if you're one of the fannibals who's hopeful (delusional) that there might be a chance of a season 4, please, pick me up. I need consolations from all of you. Please tell me what do you think. Is really there ANY chance? Please give me some hope. If it continues someday (someday...) with more Hannigram (as Bryan has already promised in the last online cast meet up) on the toe, I'd be the HAPPIEST person alive. The HAPPIEST. Even a film would do. Just something. Just a bit more of our murder husbands GOD PLEASE.

[crmsnmth]

That Old Dysphoric Waltz

Some days I hate my teeth I somehow become aware they're in my mouth and I can't stop running my tongue along the edges learning the mountain range of molars And they begin to hurt Because a look in the mirror says they are far to close togethor Clumped into one big coffee stained clump I want to pull them out Tie each one off with fishing line and finding someone to slam the door. Dentures seem like a great idea, but I don't have dental on state funded healthcare I can feel my gums throb from the toothbrush Sometimes spitting more blood then not into the sink clockwise down the drain

Some days I hate the clothes I wear I hate the way they sit on my body, folding over, sleeves riding up, I can feel the tag and I scratch at them and readjust spending far too much time fixing the clothes I have chosen to wear I want to burn them all and start over in a whole new style one that isn't monochrome and something a high school metal kid would wear Looking like I never learned how to grow up Without horror movie shirts and black jeans bandannas and scarves Still a teen with an aged body

Some days I hate the very skin I'm in Seeing all it's flaws and tears and scars Hating the contours made by sharp edges and spikes Despising the ink I thought so hard about before I committed it to flesh I get sickened by seeing the emancipated skin that's tight over visible bones and muscles that are much too small to provide any use Just the strings to an out of tune guitar With a bent neck, so the screws can't be fixed At least not with knowledge I have of such things So I'll just ignore each ache and pain I feel Until they go away, abandonment by ligaments Fingers much too long for praying Eyes half tilted and far away I never look as if I'm paying attention not that I am

Some days I hate the gender that I am the mirror lies to us every chance it gets I hate the shape of my body not seeing the movements felt staying behind doors, learning how to hide any fact like this we just don't talk about unless it's made in jest and in hate So keep your mouth shut and hate in silence Ridicule is avoided by anyone with heart And the confusion only makes things worth Hating your friends because they unknowingly hate part of you It's a pretty messed up way to go about your day Smile and wave, pretend the joke is just a joke And that secretly, everyone around isn't laughing anymore And the joke eventually becomes fear becomes isolation becomes alienation becomes annihilation Small town words spread like a fire in a dry pine forest

Some days I hate my brain Not making any sense And making thoughts that have no view The awkward panic and fear of rejection the need for abandonment and depression Living with chemicals rebuilt from time capsules from 1948 and whatever sedative we can find It's better than gray clothing and frosted glass I never really like a trilogy anyway And I've been on this hate before Letting the conflict of my right vs left battle Figure out what we're going to do today Fatty deposit of electricity That is constantly working to constantly Sabotage and end itself with bad ideas and even worse impulse control I couldn't tell you how to do better

Most days I love everything I am Everything I've stood for Everything I've done Even if I die right now, I have on hell of a story to share And I'll gladly whisper it to the worms Eternity won't be bad speaking to decay Death will wave his hand along my being And I'll talk his fucking ear off about all of my memories I love the face I wear, coffee stained teeth in all And every morning after a shower, I pick my favorite shirts and my comfortable jeans, proud of the hockey mask graphic I see my body and I'm happy it's still here, after all it's been And I see my gender right where it should be, even if the feelings towards my so-called friends don't But that just means my mind has morals and principles And is able to think through complex thought Finding logic and thought and emotion all ripping through it It's downright amazing to think about. It's okay to have bad days It gets better. It will always get better.

[zippverschluss]

2 weeks ago netflix started playing alchemy of souls without my permission. needless to say down that rabbit hole is where i've been the past 2 weeks. (i knew why i needed to time when to watch this show.)

i know how it's gonna end, but i can't bring myself to watch the last 3 eps right now. although - skirting a depressive episode atm - i probably am over the hardest part having watched the first 4 of part 2... and 18 of part 1. the last 10 min. of that one wrecked me, quite unexpectedly.

i have so many thoughts and a few quibbles where the show could def. have done better, esp. towards (its) female characters. however, having read a lot of what was written about it and the critism lobbed at esp. part 2, it feels to me that people didn't actually engage with the story that was being told and were just mad they didn't get so see what they wanted (or theorized about).

i think it helped being able to binge both parts. part 2 to me has more rewatch value, cause it tells its part of the story differently than part 1. part 1, to me, was more plot driven; i wanted to know what happens next. part 2, is more character driven; the (emotional) repercussions of the happenings in part 1. i normally don't like angst, but idk, maybe knowing the prelude to that angst makes it more bearable...

all i can say is that right now this show consumes my every thought and has me on the edge of tears all the time. i think i'm holding off on finishing cause there's def. gonna be an emptiness after. it's been a long time a show has had that effect...

[xavierkhalil]

"Financially Insecure, Okay?!"

Ain't shit worse than experiencing financial frustration. Sure, money doesn't bring happiness, but it sure does help solve problems. I think what's most annoying is the fact that I am making more money than I ever have before, but I barely get to see it last long OR save any of it. Whatever is saved usually is shelled out to pay bills. Gotta love being paid semi-monthly...

Lately, my mood has been influenced by my finances, and that is an unpeaceful feeling. Like I am only at ease when the check hits, and then immediately on edge once I have to pay bills or look at how much I will have left over, which is not a lot. It's also upsetting when you keep having to spend money that you don't have. I just am in a constant mode of anxiety. It's an irritating feeling because I did not want my life to end up like this. I've seen this too many times growing up, and now I feel like I am repeating the same cycle.

That is what is most upsetting. To feel like you're failing your inner-child. That i...I can't even finish the thought. I try to be positive, but how can I be. I have a degree and I feel like my income does not show that. My lifestyle gives the illusion, and I am sick of living in that! And I feel like jobs that incorporate where I can show my skills are far and few between. Don't even get me started on searching for a part time job! It's like I'm too qualified, they don't need the help, or my availability becomes an issue for whatever reason.

I am just tired of being broke. I am tired of feeling like I'm poor. I am tired of having to make my money stretch or patiently wait until pay day. I'm not tryna be out here ballin' but I am trying to experience some level of comfort, and I am sick of feeling like that's a luxury for rich white people or niggas with some generational wealth. I am sick of this. It sincerely breaks my heart. And, don't even get me started on the motherfuckers well-off enough, whether they had humble beginnings or not, who don't understand and barely respect your financial situation. It's when I am around these people I begin to feel even smaller.

I know my worth is not determined by how much I make. This is not what this is about. It's about feeling stuck no matter how much you achieve or whatever the income is. It's about having responsibilities and only being able to support the responsibilities and less of the dreams and aspirations that your heart desperately desires. God didn't put humans on this Earth just to pay bills, taxes and then go on to Glory. That is not the plan!! At least not for me.

Right now I am surviving. Just surviving. I am not experiencing. I barely feel like I'm thriving. I am hardly living. But survival? Oh, I am that bitch's best friend, but she is not mine. Survival mode is a constant state of anxiety and depression. It's a constant reminder that you are in an uncomfortable situation, and that no matter how much you want a break, that luxury is an unaffordable one. And, don't try to rush it, because it always seems farther than closer when I do that. I have learned to enjoy the journey, but this part here is miserable. The only silver lining I can find is that this is a temporary situation that feels like will last my whole life. I am not trying to rush anything, but in the words of Issa from Insecure...

[learningsanctum]

April 30th, 2024

(insta: avecpeach)

TW: survivor, suicide attempts, cutting, depression mention and anxiety mention.

"A writer is someone for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people." - Thomas Mann, Essays of Three Decades

I've been writing pretty much since I learned what words are. I can't barely remember a time where I didn't write thus I can't remember a time where I didn't express myself.

Sometimes quietly, pencil on the paper soothing the sharp edges of my soul.

Sometimes loudly, ripping apart pages when I couldn't rip my heart off.

Somehow... always alone.

In high school I had a brilliant friend with whom I could share my ideas with. We talked once a month despite being in the same homeroom* for the whole period of those long three years. Every time we talked it was like a explosion of new ideas and shared knowledge I believe I never had even with the "bestest" of my best friends.

We did also take the same bus back home. Once, after a particular day we spent attached at the hip, we entered the bus and we were talking about the medicines they had to take - because they had anxiety and depression - and somehow the conversation turned back to me.

I joked and said "I particularly have never been medicated nor diagnosed. So if I don't go looking for a problem then I won't have one." and that is a particular common phrase to here in my country, people often use to say they prefer to "avoid a possible headache" and obviously not meant to diminish mental health or anything of the sort.

They were telling me they took those medicines because they tried to kill themselves once, showing me the cuts and bruises in a proud manner as to say "I survived". In solidarity I decided to tell them I also had a problem with cuts back in middle school. That I used to cut myself and couldn't stop, sometimes it was more of an addiction then something to relief some kind of pain. I wanted them to see they could relate to me and I wouldn't judge them for their struggle.

I think their answer to knowing I stopped cutting myself on my own will forever be stuck in my mind, very deeply engraved in the cuts I recovered from.

"You do everything on your own, don't you?"

To be honest I was paralyzed for a moment. The sun filtered through the windows of the bus shining when it passed through their blond locks. The voices of the other kids were muffled all of the sudden and the grass of the field outside the bus windows were too green to be real. The sky too blue to be nice.

Somehow they were the only person I could read without trying from day one. How ironic is this that this ephemeral friendship would be able to read my soul right back to it's core? Just like I did to them.

Writing is what made me bound with them in the first place, so I think its only fair to address them in the same post as I address writing. They were poetry, one of the most brilliant mind I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. Yet they had little and huge flaws that made them so real that for moments I felt I could reach her.

I don't think I have ever written about them in such manner, maybe because I was afraid of doing so and discovering some deeply buried feeling in me.

Even if they never know, they are the one who convinced me to follow my dream of being on the navy. They are the one who brought back my imagination in a time I thought I'd never be creative again.

And for that I'm grateful.

Because I don't know what I would be without writing.

Without expressing the deepest wishes of my heart.

Or darkest thoughts of my mind.

Writing might keep me alive but they saved me.

And I don't think they will ever know.

[judgementdaysunshine]

I've been through everything

Pairing: Maven x Fem reader

Description: Maven becomes an unlikely friend to you after coming back to WWE from an injury that ended your career

Everything felt surreal as you went backstage seeing the locker rooms with new faces and faces of many old friends you hadn't seen in so long since your life had changed forever. You had gotten injured at Wrestlemania 16 and it wasn't just an injury that you would be out for awhile but it was the most serious injury you ever had and it was the one that ended your career within a second at the prime of it as it had been sky rocking over the past three years, you had woken up in the hospital and saw your body covered in bandages but what scared you was not being able to feel anything from below your mid waist finding out that you were paralyzed from your injury leading you to hide in your home while severely depressed and in denial until a month later when reality hit you like a trainwreck. Tears formed in your eyes seeing just how much things had changed since your last night at a pay per view, "You lost?" you turned to see a man not too much younger than you standing a few feet away before walking to you unable to ignore the look on his eyes that made you feel human for the first time in a long while since your injury as you follow him to his locker room falling into conversation after clicking in just a second which hadn't happened since meeting your closest friends who still performed on the roster and who didn't know that you were backstage let alone at the show until Lita saw you while talking with Trish who both stopped before running down the hall and stopping right in front of you only to hug you with excitement that you were back. "Holy shit Y/N oh my God you're here!" you laugh softly hearing Christian's voice as he and Test hugged you before Edge was crying and laughing as he gently lifted you in his arms out of your chair, maven was in disbelief once he heard your name and realized it was you and not just someone working backstage and despite everyone surrounding you and in their own conversations talking to you, you kept eye contact and softly spoke to maven in between talking to your old friends feeling at home for the first time in two full years as you watch all your friends matches and went on commentary that sent fans and the commentary table into shock and joy at your return while watching maven's match leading to the two of you walking around backstage talking nonstop neither of you knowing that this peaceful and simple moment would be the start of a truly rare beautiful, and unbreakable friendship between the two of you while opening up about your injury. "I've been through everything but this is the first time and this is the first time I've truly been happy and alive since what happened" he was caught off guard by you thanking him just for his kindness and talking to you but he couldn't help the smile that forms and the warmth that washes over him realizing just what his actions by talking to you truly did for you, the friendship growing between the two of you was like no other friendship either of you ever had at all and you could never truly put into words how much you meant to each other not just as friends but family.

[dawngen]

"Hey Suntuft, can we talk?"

Looking up from her anxious nest preparations, Suntuft paused in sifting moss to study her sister.

"I suppose," she said, giving her sister a playful tail-flick, "I can always make time for you."

Brightstorm made a visible effort to look happy, but Suntuft could tell it was forced. Immediately, her teasing faded to concern, tilting her head.

"... Can we... talk somewhere outside of camp?"

Suntuft didn't speak a single word more in teasing towards her sister after seeing how glum she was. Merely allowing herself to be guided out of camp, Suntuft behaved as normal when other warriors stepped up with warm greetings and playful energy under the cool leaf-fall sun. Brightstorm, however, could hardly muster up a polite meow, tail almost dragging as she guided them out of the camp's hollow-tree exit, and into the forest.

"Something is wrong, isn't it?"

The moment she knew they were fully out of earshot of any other cat, and after a thorough scenting of the area for nearby patrols, Suntuft cut straight to the point. She didn't like to prance around these unpleasant feelings for very long, feeling like she was walking astride a bed of stinging nettle. This behavior was unusual, and it wracked her nerves.

Brightstorm turned, and when she settled, Suntuft followed suit, sitting down and wrapping her tail about her forepaws. All the while, the sandy she-cat could not meet her eyes, looking down to the earth as though to meet her gaze was to invite StarClan's wrath. That likewise chewed at Suntuft's guts with worry.

"If this is about leaf-bare coming, I am sure Oatstar will do fine--"

"I'm pregnant."

Suntuft's mouth hung open as though waiting for prey to leap into it. Stunned, unable to complete her sentence of reassurance, she gaped for a moment longer before quickly shaking her head and regaining some semblance of composure.

"That's--why are you so upset? You always wanted another litter!"

A twinge of jealousy ran like fire ants under her fur. She was so excited for her own pregnancy, and still was she unable to escape this petty, internalized drama of competing with Brightstorm. Darkstar was dead, their apprentice days were over, and yet, could she not feel some joy for her sister? She knew how hard she had taken knowing it was better she did not kit again. Surely she should be celebrating this news with her, rather than seething in having to share Brightstorm's time in the sun.

"Mother... she came to me, in a dream," murmured Brightstorm, and Suntuft's confusion grew.

"Mother?"

"I've... I always wanted a prophetic dream. I thought it would be magical, like being blessed by StarClan. But she only came to warn me."

Suntuft was silent, musing over this knowledge. She could not quite find any jealous feelings regarding Boulderfrost visiting Brightstorm--not when it left the typically bubbly she-cat in such a depressing state. Much as she missed their mother, she would rather be spared the anxiety she scented rolling off of Brightstorm's pelt.

"If this is about how hard your first kitting was, we'll prepare for it. We know now how hard of a time you have, and we can let Beewatcher and the other medicine cats know to get ready."

Rising back to her paws, Suntuft tried not to think about how Brightstorm flinched as she bumped their heads together.

"Maybe this was destiny. You and I, pregnant at the same time? Perhaps it means something for our kits--"

"They're... they're not Bayspots's!"

Jolting back, fur fluffing out, Suntuft finally was able to meet Brightstorm's eyes. They were wild and panicked, beautiful copper flashing hints of wide at the edges from how wide they were.

"... What?"

Suntuft felt all of her feelings of self-depreciation and jealousy dissipate, like mist in the hot summer sun. All that remained was a scorching anxiety clawing its way up her back, prickling her with an unwelcome sense of foreboding.

"Bayspots has been so distant from me," Brightstorm began, and as she spoke, it was as if she could not stop. Like a sickness she needed to get out of her system, Brightstorm practically heaved as she carried on, looking on the verge of weeping hysterics.

"I don't know what I did, or what I could do, I just--ever since the kits left the nest, ever since they became apprentices, she's been skies away from me. She'll be right next to me, and it'll feel like mountains are between us, and I've been so lonely, and I--I--"

"Hey, hey."

Quieting Brightstorm, who fell into helpless sobs, with a brush of her tail against her shoulder, Suntuft squeezed in close.

"What is done is done," Suntuft murmured, and Brightstorm tucked her face against her chest.

"We are all still cats at the end of the day, not gods. We're not perfect, and we make mistakes."

But this mistake... It was huge. It would be like a volcanic eruption from the time of their ancestors, devastating and life-ruining. How would Bayspots react? Her kits? Their clan?

Lenient as they had become with the warrior code, allowing rogues and kittypets in as they have, it did not mean their fellow cats would look kindly upon this infidelity.

Thoughtful, Suntuft sat silent while Brightstorm rode out the last of her hiccupping cries, and when she spoke, it was with a tone of quiet consideration.

"... We were left behind by a dying kittypet, weren't we?"

Confused, Brightstorm looked up with red, bleary eyes.

"Yes, she brought us here for a second chance."

Suntuft nodded, as if that sentence was exactly what she needed to get the ball rolling for the idea taking root in her thoughts.

"I'm very nervous about my first pregnancy," she continued, and when Brightstorm opened her mouth to speak, she lifted her tail to silence her. "It's only reasonable that my sister help take care of me during it. Someone else can take on her duties, as our clan is currently thriving, with plenty of warriors to step up. Even in sickness, we have the means."

Brightstorm looked on in quiet confusion, but Suntuft kept speaking, tail beginning to lash as her thoughts snowballed.

"It'll be several more moons before I kit. You can stay with me in the nursery to ensure I get plenty of rest and am kept well-fed, as the upcoming leaf-bare will be difficult for a new queen. And then, when I kit..."

She looked over, and then down, down to Brightstorm's still-slim belly that would have to be kept strategically hidden for the following moons.

"You go out, you go and find prey for me, and return. You return with a litter of kits left abandoned in the cold, a rogue having left them behind. Like Beewatcher and Sunnydash, it is not unusual, cruel as it is."

Brightstorm's eyes lit with understanding, then dimmed from the grief of knowing what it will mean.

"I am sure I'll have a small litter, so I will be able to nurse them," gently Suntuft continued, and she knew just as well as Brightstorm how much this would hurt. Her own heart ached, knowing what it would mean for Brightstorm to have to separate herself from her kits, but it would be too dangerous for her to keep them. What if they looked like her affair partner? What if they looked like her?

That would be something they'd have to think of as well when explaining the rogue story, but maybe, Suntuft could lie and pretend she had birthed them, so at least if they looked like Brightstorm, the genetics could be played away.

"We'll make it work." Suntuft pressed their foreheads together. "I'll get to know all of the herbs you will need, and how to help you, so no one has to know. The medicine cats will think it is just all for me."

Brightstorm silently nodded, quick and anxious, and Suntuft gently began to groom her head, trying to soothe the anxiety she knew was not good for the young kits growing inside of her.

"... But I need to know, Brightstorm," she continued, soft as duck down, "I need to know who parented them."

Brightstorm flinched, and leaned back, hesitation visible in her face. After a long beat of patient silence, finally, Brightstorm conceded, gaze turning back downward, and ears pinning back.

"... It... It's Eagleburn."

[living-and-awaken]

I spend so much time bottling up emotions I forget what it's like when someone actually wants to hear how I'm truly feeling. After being 100% open about where I'm at, crying, and just being heard.... I just. I don't think the other person realized how much it means to a person like me. I spend so much time in depression without being able to tell anyone how I truly feel. How emotionally hurt I am and the distress I'm in. Always being the one to help others without judgement but being deathly afraid to be helped and opening up in fear of being judged... It's nice.

So I know most people don't realize it or think too much of it... But check on your guy friends.

Let them open up and be 100% honest without judging them. Most of us are in some sort of emotional distress but society tells us our mental health doesn't matter as much. A lot of us feel like we need to be emotionally strong, always, and too never be vulnerable. Some of us bottle stuff up and let it eat at us and damn near take us out. I've been in so much pain recently. I forget that my mental health matters and there are people that are genuinely concerned about me and actually want to help/listen.

I understand being a male has "societal privileges" but for a lot of us, we don't get to benefit from the privilege and we feel like we aren't heard. And when we do try to speak about where we are at, it's usually met with more of a negative response than a positive one, only making us close up more.

For a long time I was told to "man up" or that I was too emotional for a guy. I needed to get over it. I need to be the strong foundation for others. I'm not allowed to talk about how I'm truly feeling and if I do, I need to leave most of it out because guys shouldn't just go around showing vulnerability. I've been told all these things in one way or another. I don't think a lot of people realize how much guys hold things in and are so afraid to be open about where we are at.

More men are committing suicide and I've lost a couple over the last few years to it. You all have almost lost me... I don't want to die alone but I feel more and more hopeless as time moves further along. When I say I've been at my breaking point for a long time now, I mean I've been one thought process away from ending it. I've been so close to the edge, the smallest nudge could send me over.

I'm not saying all this to receive pity. I'm saying it because I'm so scared of what will happen to me if I don't let it out. Being scared to die alone is the worst fear for me because the more time that passes... The closer I am to ending it without trying to find out what will happen and if I'll have someone in the end. The longer I remain alone, the worse my fear becomes a reality, the anxiety builds, and the closer I get to giving up because it seems so much more like a reality, that I can't fathom the point of continuing to live on an ever dwindling hope that my fear won't come true. You would think there would be more of a reason to continue but when the hope lessens, the reason to live and fight that fear also goes with it.

I really went off on a tangent here. I'm sorry everyone. If you get one thing out of this, if any of you actually read through it... I want you to check on your male friends. Some of us are not okay.

Some of us are tired and ready to leave. A lot of us are hiding it because we are told it's off-putting or weird to open up. So check on your guy friends... Really all your friends. But I guarantee you some of your guy friends are barely hanging on but too afraid to talk about it.

I don't want to lose anyone else.

I don't want to lose myself.