#my mental health is in shambles and only getting worse

[spinogreen0iq]

vent in the tags, (mentions of selfharm, suicidal thoughts)

my anhedonia is eating me alive so i’m making these mental illness memes to cope

[whump-it-like-its-hot]

Heading to school now to finalize my decision to retake the year. Set your bets NOW on whether I’ll start crying again, completely shut down and will be unable to speak, or the third, secret option! (Not even I know what the third secret option is yet, but we’ll see!)

[st-eve-barnes]

Some personal stuff under the cut

My mental health has been in shambles since last week and it's so disheartening when you thought you were doing better but then you're back to zero.

This is the exact same time it happened last year and I've had so many ups and downs since. Then I started taking the pill again in the beginning of this year, to keep my period under control but also cause my doctor said it could severely help with the mood swings and the hormones. And for the past 4 months it seemed to really do that. I've felt so "normal", like more back to my usual self, hadn't cried in so long and apart from some anxiety spikes since our car accident in February things were actually going pretty good.

Then since last week I started feeling very off and that familiar disconnect was back with a vengeance, and this week the crying fits are also back. I really thought we were done with this! Not only do I feel depressed now but I'm also so disappointed because I WAS better and now it feels completely out of reach to get there again.

Fighting depression is so exhausting, being a woman is so exhausting, how long do we have to keep doing this?

I don't know if the fandom overstimulation is making things better or worse but it feels like the only thing that truly distracts me right now and I feel like I need that hyperfixation more than ever as nothing in life atm interests me at all.

I know a lot of us are going through it and I'm sorry if this was hard to read, just had to vent it out. I will keep going, as always, but it's so shit at the moment.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I take some of our dogs to the pound, or make my mom buy them shock collars?

CW: Animal Abuse Mention, Suicide Mention

I (nb24) live in a house with my mom, dad, little brother and 4 yappy dogs. Living in this house takes a severe toll on my mental health, but I'm generally left to my own devices and it's a stable environment. I do not have the finances to move out, the economy is in shambles.

My mom had accumulated two small and very loud dogs over the years. This already was a strain. Neither of these dogs are trained. They are never taken outside, only use the pad about half of the time, and one actively attacks and bites visitors. (They are so small that this doesn't cause severe injury.) I am autistic and am easily overstimulated by loud noises. So was my format partner, and the dogs were one of the contributing factors as to why they moved out (though not the primary one.)

Things only got worse after that. About a year ago, my mom brought home two more dogs without anyone's consent. She had apparently discussed the prospect of bringing home one to my dad exclusively, but not two. She said that they were the last two at the breeder and she didn't want to separate them.

One of these dogs turned out to be very anxious and barks nearly constantly. I tried voicing my concerns, telling my mom that the dog would be a problem and she should give it away. She insisted that it would settle in, and if it didn't, she'd consider my words. The dog has only gotten worse, and she moved the goal posts, refusing to get rid of the dog because it's bonded now.

This has had debilitating consequences. There have been weeks where I would be having a full meltdown every day. My headaches have gotten worse and are definitely affecting my work. Everyone else in the family hates this dog, and my dad has often threatened to abuse or kill it. My mom has been offering unethical solutions like debarking, which I've refused, but still will not give any of the dogs away.

At this point, I've reached my limit. I cannot continue to live like this. The noise has been frequently driving me to thoughts of SH or suicide.

From what I see, I have three options.

1. I can either underhandedly steal the two most problematic dogs (the new one and the one that bites people) and take them to the pound, where they will... hopefully... be adopted eventually. My mom is going through a lot of severe unrelated stress rn, so I'm afraid of the wrath I might receive and the repercussions this will have on her mental health.

2. I finally cave to the immoral options. The one that seems the least bad would be remote-controlled shock collars. I've already tried the humane ones that vibrate and they do not work.

... or 3. I don't do anything to the detriment of my mental health. This is their home and their pets. Maybe I can find a place to stay during the day so I'm not trapped here.

So... WIBTA if I carry out option 1 or 2? If anyone has any advice I'd love to hear it. Please help.

What are these acronyms?

[luna-andra]

The Shadows Return | Simon 'Ghost' Riley x OC Retired AU | Chapter 4: Breathe

Author's Note: I'm off of hiatus! 🎉 I'm already 3k words deep into chapter 5, so that should be coming out soon. Here's to writing more in 2024 (if anyone still cares about this fic lol) 😁

Word count: 6.2k

Content warning: slow burn, eventual smut, 18+ only, fluff, mentions of mental health

Chapter 1 to start from the beginning. Next chapter

It in fact did not hold. Even worse, it happened within a couple of days. The cherry on top? Andra was unaware as she sat curled up with the book Ghost had pulled off her bookshelf. She was revisiting the story, with a flush that crept up on her face, radiating the apples of her cheeks. The chances of her losing all ability to sit there without so much of a hue of red on her face would be dead in the water. And imagining Ghost’s voice narrating the male’s dialogue? No shot she would be alive after hearing him whisper that shit in her ear. 

Sammy’s frantic bark snatched her out of the shameful fantasy, warning her that something was awry outside. Andra plopped her book down without a second thought, slipping a finger through the window blinds to find her chickens free-roaming outside the pen. “Shit.” She grabbed the cream-colored cardigan from the back of the couch and threw it on and slipped her feet in some easy access shoes, darting outside to go scoop up each chicken. One by one, she stuffed them back into the cozy chicken coop where they would be on lockdown, muttering profanities and curses under her breath. 

All of them went willingly and without so much of a fight. Except for the broody hen, Helen. “Cut it out!” Andra hisses as she winced at the peck of her angry little beak. Her feathers stopped flapping frantically as she was shoved into the coop, and Andra swore she received a side eye from the poultry. She did a head count, not seeing any other chickens in the vicinity. There was a rooster missing. “Dammit, Ted…” Andra jogged around the perimeter of her house, followed up with the barn, the enclosure a couple of more times, and lastly the patches of crops, weaving in and out of the stalks of summer produce, on the hunt for that damn rooster. The tracks of chicken prints were too sporadic, too many chickens have toddled around for her to notice any wandering prints veering off in a different direction. Or maybe she just sucked at following tracks. 

At this point she checked every area nearby seven times over. Her throat tightened, eyes burning as she was on the verge of tears. Andra thought of every scenario, the worst including a wild animal finding the rooster and making a meal of him. She cared deeply for her animals. It pained her to think about finding a mangled, poultry corpse in its wake. 

Andra wiped her teary eyes with the sleeve of her cardigan and shambled back inside. Her phone sat next to the book she abandoned, and she went to pick it up to make a phone call. The line rang once, twice, thrice. It forwarded to voicemail. 

“Ghost, it’s me.” Her voice quivered. She cleared her throat to gain composure. “I’m alright, but my chickens got loose and one is missing. Thought I’d give you a heads up if you find one wandering the road or jumped your fence… okay, sorry to bother you.” Andra hung up after leaving the message, and let out a leaden sigh as she sunk into her couch. Sammy senses her distress and provided comfort with a nudge of her nose against her elbow, her big brown eyes looking up to Andra. 

He called it, too. She replayed Ghost telling her, if the chickens get smart, they’ll breach it. Her chickens have half of a brain cell, collectively shared amongst each other. She never expected it to actually happen. She nearly raised those chickens after they hatched, when they were able to be separated from the flock of the breeder she bought from. They were the first farm animals she had ever owned, spending so much time researching before and after owning them, learning their personalities and behaviors. Andra wanted to continue her search, through the backwoods of her property or across the street in the overbrush of weeds and trees, but it felt like it would be too unsafe to go out there without some form of self-defense. So, she curled up into herself on the couch, hands concealing her face and catching the tears falling from her burning eyes.

----- 

Ghost was hit with a wave of uncomfortable heat as he walked out of the psychiatrist’s office. Something else to aggravate the growing headache he seemed to get after the waste of the one-hour session he spent with Dr. Smith. He believed that Ghost made some sort of progress this time around. Why did he have to go and open his mouth about things?  

”Simon, good to see you return.” Dr. Smith always greeted Ghost with the same salutation at every appointment, whether it was genuine or not, Ghost didn’t care. He was probably just relieved that he returned instead of eating one of his own bullets. “What’s new?”  

Ghost’s scowl remained on the clock relentlessly ticking in the back of the room until he decided to direct his attention to his doctor. “Not sleeping well.”  

“Is it worse than the last time we discussed?” He asked with a professional tone. 

Ghost gave a stern nod. “Getting less hours.” He knew the next question that was going to be asked. “Even with the meds, I have been compliant.” 

Doc took a moment to scribble his notes. “What’s changed?” He looked up to meet Ghost’s face sincerely.  

“Took on another project at the shop. Waiting on the parts to come in, but I have been inspecting the rest of the truck to see what else I can patch up to make sure it doesn’t come back too soon.”  

The conversation veered to details about the truck, Ghost’s shoulders relaxed the more he droned on about the project. It was sometimes a relief to discuss work with other people than Soap and the guys at the shop. He was reluctant to admit that he found a kernel of camaraderie with Dr. Smith upon discovering he was a veteran as well. Ghost cared enough to learn about what he did with his time; a mechanical engineer that served and ducked out once his years were up. It sounded like he mildly enjoyed what he did, retiring so he could pursue a different career and took advantage of the education benefits. Smart man. Possibly something Ghost should have done but was too arrogant and young when he had first enlisted back in 2001. 

Dr. Smith pushed his bifocals up the bridge of his nose with a finger. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you so invested in a project before.” 

Shit. Ghost fell for the tactic. He let out an exhale as he leaned back in the cushy chair, turning away. “It’s for my neighbor.” 

The sounds of pen scratching against paper filled the silence. “Never heard you talk about your neighbor, or anyone else besides your old mates for that matter.” 

“Her truck breaking down is the reason why we met.” Ghost explained with a tension in his jaw.  

“Is she part of the reason for your loss of sleep?” 

Ghost muttered under his breath, “Christ.” He sat up in his chair and rolled his neck. “This is starting to feel more like a chat I would have with Johnny over drinks rather than a psych appointment.” 

Dr. Smith laid his pen flat on his yellow notepad. “It might not be ground breaking work we are doing here, but you managed to tell me more than you have in the past three sessions we have had.” He got up and walked behind his desk, retrieving a prescription pad from a drawer, and started writing. “If you want, I can up the dose or we can keep it the same and I’ll send you on your way with a refill.” 

There was a relief that came over Ghost. “Let’s keep it the same.” He didn’t want to talk about Andra anymore, and thankfully it was obvious to Dr. Smith. 

“Here we are.” Dr. Smith handed Ghost the white slip of paper with awful chicken scratch. “Keep looking for that humanity, Simon. It’s in there.” 

The truck took an uncomfortable amount of time to cool down. His shirt stuck to his body, increasing his irritation. Might as well start driving to the shop, it’s not gonna get any better. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and felt a haptic vibration in his hand. 

One missed call. 

From Andra. 

Ghost, it’s me. The adrenaline dump flooded his veins. She sounded upset and in distress. He’s never heard her on the verge of tears before, it was like a claw punched a hole in his chest and used his heart as a stress relief toy. Whoever, whatever made her this upset was high on his priority list to handle.  

He had to replay the message another time, realizing the rest was muffled out and ignored after the first three words. I’m alright, but my chickens got loose and one of them is missing. “Christ, woman...” Ghost let out a breath that he was holding in. What a way to start a voicemail, making him think the worst that could have possibly happened. She must have noticed it too because her next words sounded more level-headed.  

He killed the line with the voicemail inbox and dialed the auto shop. “Rus, I gotta call out for the day. I’ll make up my hours, oh and let Mr. Caldwell know his vehicle will be ready tomorrow afternoon, I’ll be there for his pickup.”  

There was no fuss about Ghost calling in on short notice. He was the one person in the shop that the supervisor didn’t have to worry about. Much to his chagrin, he couldn’t say the same about Soap sometimes.  

Ghost shut the door a little harder than he meant to, his head fell back against the headrest as he took a deep breath. Was it happening again? He reached into the glove box, retrieving his pills. His hand tightly gripped around the small orange vial as he worked on controlling his breath. Inhale for five, exhale for five. Ghost hated that stupid technique, it felt ridiculous. But it worked. The panic was subsiding, and the pill bottle fell from his hand onto the floorboard of the truck beside his foot.  

Ghost picked it back up and tossed it into the neat compartment, leaving the parking lot of the office to make his way over to her. 

He pulled up to the sight of Andra kneeling before the broken part of the fence line, putting some kind of temporary fix for the day. Her head perked up as she noticed him coming closer, parking in the dirt driveway. Andra got up on her feet and wiped loose grass and dirt off of her jeans, her eyes red and puffy. He killed the engine and stepped out of the truck. 

“What are you doing here?” Andra sniffled, trying and failing to hide the fact that she’s been crying. 

“Got your message.” He answered. 

Her lip quivered as tears welled up in her irritated eyes again, and she turned her head away to look at the pen. “Ghost, you didn’t have to show up.” She covered her face in her hands, taking in a deep breath. “I just wanted you to let me know if you find him, this didn’t have to turn into a search party.” 

“Where do the tracks end?” 

Andra looked at him again after wiping her eyes with her sleeve. “This way, maybe I’m not sure.” 

He wanted to rag on her about her lack of confidence in tracking prints, but didn’t when he remembered who he was talking to. There was nothing worse in this moment than seeing her so worked up and upset over this damn chicken. He was going to find it for her, it couldn’t have gone far. 

She led him to an area and pointed to the pockmarked ground full of three-toed prints. “This is where they mainly stayed, and, the tracks are just all over the place and don’t really lead anywhere…” 

“There,” Ghost pointed out a trail of individual tracks that led astray. Of course, it wandered off into the thick wooded area of her land. He headed back to the truck to retrieve his pistol, tucking it into the backside waistband of his jeans. Andra wasn’t fazed at the sight of his gun, probably reminded her of being back home. “Stay here, I don’t want you getting hurt out there.” 

“I’m going.” She protested with a broken voice as she followed behind him. 

“I don’t want you getting hurt out there.” Ghost stopped to turn back to her. “And we don’t know if there are any wild animals out there.” 

“You’re gonna want me out there, trust me.” Her voice was firmer this time; she wasn’t taking no for an answer. 

Ghost sighed as he observed her small, trembling frame. She really needed to put something on other than loafers.  “Go put on some sensible shoes, and we’ll look together.” 

Andra was quiet, all except for the crunching leaves beneath her boots. Ghost took the rear, letting her take lead at a short distance. If she was going to trip, fall or hurt herself he would be able to prevent it from turning into a disaster this way. Her shoulders slumped, but her head swiveled as she combed her surroundings. 

“You ever explore these woods?” Ghost breaks the thick silence, and attempt to pull her from her somber. 

She glanced over her shoulder in dismay. “No, I’ve never had the courage to come out here alone. I hear howling late in the night sometimes.” She resumed her diligent search, and Ghost doubled down on what he thought she looked over too quick. 

The tracks were growing thinner, but they still led them into the path of ancient trees. Sunrays bled through the leaves and branches of birch and ash trees, cascading ribbons of light down on Andra. Her hair shimmered with bits of blonde strands within her brunette hair, something Ghost never noticed before. Every rustle made her stop, startled by unknown wildlife. Most times it was the scuttles of lizards across stepping stones and miniature boulders. When it wasn’t this damn chicken, her shoulders would fall with a sigh. 

“We’ll hear it before we see it.” Ghost reassured her. 

“He’s probably dead by now…” 

It pained him to see Andra sulk over her lost animal. Ghost stopped beside where she planted herself, placing a warm hand on her shoulder. She looked down to his touch, then up to his masked face in surprise. “Let’s keep looking.” His hand retreated before she could place her own hand over his, then another rustle in a wild bush a few meters ahead alerted him. 

The damn bird came clucking out from behind it. 

“Ted!” Andra exclaimed as she raced to him, collecting the brainless animal into her arms and embraced him. “You stupid fucking bird, making us come out here to get you.” 

“You named the bloody thing Ted?” Ghost deadpanned. 

She plucked bits of leaves and twigs out of Ted’s feathers. “I never said I was good with coming up with names for animals.” 

Ghost chuckled at the sight of the brightness returning to her face. She met his eyes, kindness and gratitude radiating before she could even tell him with words. “Thank you, Ghost. You’re always coming to my rescue.” 

His heart jolted at her words. “Don’t make a habit of it.” Andra’s giggle made him turn away to hide his sheepish reaction. Andra passed him up, focused on grooming Ted and insulting him fifty different ways. Something caught his eye before he started to follow her. 

Footprints. 

Not their footprints, these were in an area off the beaten path. Ghost retrieved his firearm before stalking towards them, inspecting the prints. They were older, it wasn’t from recently and there were more than one set. Three sets of footprints. He turned his attention to the direction Andra was walking away, unaware that he stopped to investigate. 

It couldn’t be some random people or even kids coming out to wander these woods, at least that’s what Ghost convinced himself. They were too far out away from town, away from other neighboring people. Who knows, maybe the group was traveling their own acres and turned back around once they realized they came into someone else’s property. He really wanted to believe that, and not the darker theory that crept into his thoughts. Or did she lie about coming out here? Why would she do that? She could have easily explained she had gone exploring with a group. 

All of the prints looked too big for her foot size.  

Ghost didn’t want to alarm Andra. He just got her to smile again, this conversation will come up later.

----- 

Ghost was relieved to see Andra’s spirits lifting without another tear in sight. That stupid bird put her through enough turmoil, he’d rather never have to see her like that again. She was going over the details of how the broken pen and runaway chickens were discovered. “They would have all been gone if Sammy hadn’t barked at the window.”  

“What had you so distracted?” Ghost poked with mild curiosity.  

Her answer left out of her rushed before she could stop herself. “I was reading – and in between I was prepping some dough to make sourdough bread.” She interrupted herself once more, lost in her own thoughts. “Oh no, did I leave it on the counter or did I put it in the oven to rise? It’ll be fine if it rises for a few more hours, right?”  

It sounded like she was talking to herself more than asking Ghost, which was fine because he didn’t know the first thing about baking bread. He chuckled to himself. “Horror or romance?”  

“Huh?” Her external ramble was interrupted.  

“Were you reading horror or romance this time?” Ghost glanced at her briefly, his smirk concealed beneath the mask.  

Andra went sheepish once more. “Romance,” then, her tone shifted as she grumbled, “It was getting good until you gave my pen Ojo.”  

Ghost whipped his head to her direction quickly with a perplexed expression. “I did what now?” What does an eye have to do with anything?  

“You gave it the Evil Eye,” she looked back to him. “That’s why it broke.”  

His fingers tapped against the steering wheel as he waited for the light to change, feeling even more confused now. Ghost let out a lighthearted scoff. “It’s my fault that it broke now?”  

Andra huffed a defeated sigh. “No, I’m just being ridiculous.”  

If that’s what it was, Ghost found it amusing. “So now you’re gonna ‘ave to explain the Evil Eye to me.”  

“We have this superstition in Mexican/Hispanic culture where if you look at something for too long, you can potentially send bad energy its way. It can be an object or a person, and to cancel it out you can touch it or them.”  

“That’s not a thing.” Ghost retorted, holding back laughter. “I never heard about that when I was in Mexico.”  

A playful smirk crept over Andra’s face. “Maybe because they believed you were the Evil Eye incarnate.”  

Ghost let out a sarcastic laugh. “Very clever.” The truck rolled into the parking lot of the hardware store, locating a convenient parking spot nearest to the store. Ghost cut the engine, and sat there for a second. “Well, if that’s the case,” Andra gave him a puzzled look as he reached out to run a strand of her soft hair between his fingers. “That way your hair doesn’t fall out.”  

The gesture was well worth the furious blush that spread over her face like wildfire, despite his own heart jackhammering in his chest.

-----  

Ghost was reassessing the hole in the pen while Andra let out Sammy to run around and handle her business. He gives her a quick greeting pet before standing on his feet, gesturing to the pen. “We can either replace this side or replace the entire perimeter.” 

“Might as well use all of the supplies I bought.” Andra pulled her work gloves out from her back pocket and slipped them on. “We work on different sides?” 

He nodded with a grunt. Watching Ghost haul the supplies off the bed of his truck was something Andra couldn’t pull her focus away from. What is wrong with me? She was acting like the sight of muscle and sinew flexing and tightening beneath his work shirt was… erotic. And Gods, every time he grunted and growled from the weight of whatever he hauled off his truck… that’s it, no more romance books for you for a week. He slid on his own gloves, this pair had her biting back a smirk. They matched his skull balaclava, and it made her wonder if he shuffled around in skeleton-patterned socks in the comfort of his house. 

She looked away with a smirk when Ghost noticed she was gawking. “I know, I know, don’t say anything.” 

“I didn’t.” Andra’s voice went up in pitch. Her smile grew when she caught a glimpse of him shaking his head in her peripherals. 

Ghost was fun to tease, and his choice of gear made it easier to find something to poke fun at. Was it low hanging fruit? Sure, but it’s all she had to tease him for. The joking around was her way of trying to learn more about people, and if they could laugh or joke back, they were worth getting to know. It was the ones who stuck their noses up at Andra that she steers clear from. 

The work began, and Ghost had Andra looking like she had never picked up a hardware tool in her life. While she had one length of old fencing nails removed, Ghost was nearly done with the sides of his wall. The man knew how to work efficiently, it didn’t even look like he was breaking a sweat. 

“Did your dad teach you how to do blue collar work?” Andra asked as she struggled with a nail. 

His rhythm and focus was derailed by her question. “No, old man wasn’t worth shit.” 

Oh… the gravel in his voice sent a chill down her spine. Estranged father, got it. 

Ghost resumed, cutting out the needed dimensions of chicken wire. Andra could see him blink a few times, that calloused glare lingering. “I did some work in basic and before I was sent off to my specialized unit, not making chicken pens, but we learned out way around manual tools for several things.” He went quiet once more to concentrate on the measurements. 

Andra threw aside the old chicken wire once she pulled out all of the nails. “Do you have any siblings?” 

He hesitated before answering. “An older brother.” 

“Oh.” She started unfurling her needed piece of wire. “Do you stay in contact with him?” 

“No.” His answer came out short and quick, nearly cutting Andra off. 

What am I doing? Andra frowned. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up something you don’t want to talk about.” 

Ghost sighed as he used the staple gun to nail in the new wire. “No one ever asks, so I’m not used to talking about it. Considering you’re quite chatty, it was bound to come up.” Her cheeks burned from his comment. “Maybe someday.” 

That hardened look softened to humor, and relief washed over her. Don’t bring up the family. She felt stupid for mentioning it. Maybe she would never learn more about the mysterious man who, for some reason, kept helping her out when she’s been nothing but trouble. He was right about one thing; Andra is chatty. And she didn’t want to give up talking to him. She decided to switch gears. 

“Hey Ghost.” Andra grinned to herself. 

“Hmm.” 

“Don’t challenge Death to a pillow fight. Unless you’re prepared for the reaper cushions.” 

Ghost froze in place, his eyes flickered to her. “Not bad.” 

“Your turn.” She encouraged. 

He took a second to think of one. “What do you call a dog with no legs? Doesn’t matter, he won’t come anyway.” 

Andra peered over her shoulders. “Don’t let Sammy hear that one.” Ghost chuffed a laugh. “My favorite Disney movie is the Hunchback of Notre Dame. I love a hero with a twisted back story.” 

That one managed to get a snicker out of Ghost. This dork likes puns. 

“What did Kermit the Frog say at his puppeteer’s funeral? Not a word.” 

He’s morbid, and it’s great. 

“Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana.” 

There was a beat of a pause. “That was bad.” 

“C’mon, it was good.” She laughed. 

“I have bad puns, but that one was awful.” 

The lacerating pain hit her hot and fast. “Fuck!” The whipping sound of the wire sprung against the wall, make it stop in its tracks.

Ghost immediately shot up onto his feet, flying over the short distance she was away from him along with Sammy galloping over in concern for her momma.  He saw the blood saturating her jeans as well as the gash that was oozing beneath the torn denim. “Let’s get you inside.” Ghost had linked his arms underneath her shoulders and hoisted her with ease, earning a growl of pain from her. “I got you, we’ll take it slow. Do you have a first floor bathroom?”

Andra threw an arm over his shoulder as he guided her to the house, giving him directions for the bathroom he led her to. Sammy stayed behind them the entire time, whining and panting as if feeling helpless. Andra coaxed her companion with reassuring words in hopes to calm her down. She was hissing and groaning the entire way there, and her attempts of trying to focus on anything else but the pain failed her, until a smell hit her. Was that cardamom? It filled her lungs as she took a deep breath, trying to disguise it as a inhale to calm her down. Technically, it did the job because wholly Gods, he smelled like a comfort she never had.

He swung open the front door, carrying most of her weight. Hell, he could easily carry all of her weight if he really wanted to. “Is there a first aid kit in here?” Ghost asked while he eased her down on the lip of the bathtub. Sammy laid by the bathroom door, watching Ghost closely to make sure he's taking care of Andra.

“Yeah, below the sink,” she whined. He didn’t waste any time finding it. “God, today really stuck it to me.”

“Bad things come in three, isn’t that the saying?” Ghost quipped, earning a snort from her. “If the broken pen is the first and Ted was the second, this one must be the third.” He slid off his gloves and ran his hands through soap and water in the basin. “Can you pull up that pant leg?”

Andra tried, but it had her wincing from the flashes of pain. “Nope, that’s not gonna work.” Ghost returned, his fingers tugged at the zipper of the first aid kid before kneeling in front of her. “There’s a pair of scissors in that bag, I don’t care about losing a pair of jeans-” His damp hands settled her leg between his thighs to stabilize it, and with hardly any effort at all he tore the denim wide open. Christ alive. “Or you can do that.”

“Let’s get this cleaned up and wrapped.” Ghost abandoned her leg to swiftly rummage for the necessary supplies. Antiseptic, gauze, and self-adhesive bandage. With everything lined up beside him, Ghost gripped the back of her leg, right onto her tensed up calf and gently moved it. She could feel the tremor in his hand. “It’s not deep, you won’t need stitches.”

Andra sighs in relief, followed by a yelp when an antiseptic-doused washcloth was applied onto the wound. His sorry was quiet and short, if she heard it. A deep focus washed over her from the sight of Ghost knelt before her, caressing her leg while the other hand cleaned her off. The pain suddenly didn’t feel as bad as before, now when his touch became her entire focus. His thumb was tracing little circles into her flesh, just barely.

He must have noticed how still and quiet Andra went. His Autumn brown eyes looked up to her, devoid of distance. His stare had its own gravitational pull, sucking her in. Christ, am I really getting this worked up? It made her feel like she knocked back two fingers worth of whiskey, her legs turning to jelly and her brain now fuzzy.

“Is that okay?”

A breath caught itself in her throat. She’s never heard him whisper like that before. A head nod was all she could manage. Ghost returned back to her wound, and she’s so thankful for it. Suddenly, the ceiling got much more interesting to look at. But that scent floated near her nostrils once more; that was definitely cardamom and something else she couldn’t place. Something soothing, something that made his musk smell… delectable. Her cheeks were red hot from the thought, the need, to press her face into his shirt, the neckline of his balaclava, anything, to sear that scent into her mind.

The cloth of the gauze patch stuck to the fleshy bit of her knee, and she’s startled by the rip of the self-adhesive bandage.

“Done.”

Andra braves a glance at her knee, flexing it slightly to test the hold of Ghost’s handiwork. Of course, he would know how to patch her up in a pinch, and she tries not to think about how many of his brothers in arms he had to do this – and much worse – for.

Further down, sitting on the tops of his thigh was a trembling hand, the other one continued its soft ministrations on her calf. It’s like it was for his own comfort rather than hers. Regardless, she could melt from the soothing sensation it brought her. She was scared of doing something that would make him pull away, but as if he read her mind, Ghost did it anyway.

“Thank you.” Andra warbles sheepishly. “I get to keep the limb because of you.”

Ghost let out a chuckle, his shoulders releasing some trapped tension there. “I’ll finish up out there.” He stood up, and offered Andra a hand to help her get to the living room couch, leaving there with a tornado wrecking every thought about what had happened.

Idiot idiot idiot.

Ghost was just helping her, Andra drilled in her head. It didn’t mean anything the way he touched her, right? Or the way he spoke, the words cutting through her like soft butter. Or the look he gave her. She’s delusional, right? Andra rubbed a hand over her face, desperately wishing she had a bottle of wine in the kitchen.

The hour she spent sitting there chewing her nails and petting Sammy felt like a death sentence. She could catch glimpses of Ghost through the screen door. Every now and then he would shake his head at himself. Her heart sank to her stomach. Maybe he was frustrated with having to help her out today. For having to possibly take time out of a work day to deal with her bullshit. And then that whole thing with bringing up his family…

Stupid stupid stupid.

Andra was so deep in her head, she didn’t realize Ghost had come back inside until the screen door smacked the doorway behind him. “Everything’s solid now.”

She braved a gentle grin. “Thank you Ghost. I meant it earlier, you’re always coming to my rescue and I don’t take that for granted.”

He gave her a terse nod as he pushed open the screen door, his hand resting on the top of the threshold. “Try not to need any more savin’ for a while, hmm?”

Andra couldn’t hold back a smile. “I’ll do my best.”

-----

The truck will be ready tomorrow. 

Tomorrow is today. Andra looked over Ghost’s text again as if there’s a hidden, underlying message in his words. She chews at the innards of her cheek, tapping a foot on her tile floors. It was one of the first messages Andra has received from him that was more than one word. He had checked in several days after he repaired the pen at least, but after giving Andra a short ‘Good’, radio silence. 

She didn’t bother asking Johnny about Ghost. If she was someone that Ghost didn’t want to keep in contact with, fair enough. She’s felt like an enormous burden for the both of them since Ghost found her on the side of the road. Besides, Sunday mornings were already busy enough with Johnny accumulating a harem of regular customers. It was great for business, replenishing the crater that the transmission fix left in her savings. She was preparing for the plummet that was going to follow when the ladies realize Johnny wasn’t returning. 

As well as preparing for the possibility that both of them might go back to being strangers. They never crossed paths before, or at least she doesn’t recall ever seeing a masked man and his mohawked companion in public. 

Andra sighed as she tucked her phone into her back pocket, reaching for her coffee mug on the kitchen counter she leaned against. Maybe she overthought the moment he spent patching up her wound. It left a pink scar slashing across her knee, trailing down her shin. No, stop the gaslighting. His hands definitely lingered on her for longer than anyone should have. She wished he had stayed longer, wished he had done more. 

“Hellooo?” Johnny’s voice carried through the entrance. Andra was used to him coming in when the front door is left open, yet she was jolted back to reality once her inner monologue was interrupted. He offered to come get her before going in for his own shift. Still extremely reluctant to accept gas money for the miles he had put into travelling back and forth. 

“In here,” Andra called out as she finished the rest of her coffee, rinsing out the mug and leaving it to sit in the basin.  

Johnny couldn’t stop talking about some girl that worked at the fish and chip shop he frequents on lunch breaks as they drove to the shop. “You think it means something if she goes outta her way t’ring us up? I mean, sometimes she’ll be in the back and will take over when she hears me.” 

Andra scoffs. “How more obvious does she have to be?” 

He clicks his tongue. “I just don’ wanna make it awkward if there’s nothin’ there.” 

“Don’t be a dick about it, then there won’t be anything to worry about.” Andra got the feeling that Johnny didn’t have the best track record with women. Hence why he was so clueless about this one. 

The two of them walked into the shop jabbing jokes at each other when Andra saw Ghost behind the counter, leaning into his fist as he looked down at an open book. He was sporting the same navy button up shirt with the shop’s logo embroidered above the left breast pocket, the sleeves rolled up to his biceps to reveal his tattoos and smudges of car grime. She could see a tension shift in his shoulders, like he was fighting the urge to look up at her. Okay…? Johnny tapped a fist on Ghost’s shoulder and continued to breeze past him, walking through a door that led to the depot. Andra approached the counter with a frigid apprehension, tapping her fingertips against the surface. “Hey, is now a good time to pick up my truck?” 

“Aye.” Ghost kept his focus on the ledger he was working on, then turned away without a glance to file through a cabinet to search for her invoice. One-worded answers again. 

She let a few seconds of suffocating silence pass before trying again. “The breeder I had bought my chickens from hit me up to let me know she’s got a goat that’s going to give birth soon. I was thinking about taking the kid off of her hands.” More flitting of paper. “I’ll have to expand and build another pen once I can bring it home.” 

“Hmm.” Was all Ghost gave her. A mere acknowledging hum if that. He retrieved a paper with a small zip-lock bag containing her key, stapled to it and returned it to the counter. “Sign this to indicate that we released your vehicle back to ye, if you want, we can inspect the truck really quick to see if everything is in order.” 

His cold attitude and lifeless voice was a punch in the gut. “Did I do something wrong?” No response, just a hand picking up a pen from a worn out metal cup followed by a slide of the pen across the counter. Her expression hardened, and she scribbled a half-assed signature before shoving the pen down. “No, an inspection isn’t necessary. Okay, so I definitely misread the whole interaction in the bathroom then. Not only did she misread it, but the whole thing was also in a different language. Now this passive-aggressive stand-off was Ghost’s way of interpreting it for her. Message received, loud and clear.

-----

If you're enjoying this story, any engagement is appreciated 🖤

[itsclydebitches]

I think RWBY is the only story I've ever seen that literally had two separate, factually true creation myths directly informing how things got the way it was in the modern day... while being completely irrelevant. Seriously, what does this DO for anybody involved? How does this loredump about the Brother Gods help?!

Ruby early Volume 9: My mental health is in shambles and that's due in large part to my belief that I'm solely responsible for stopping this immortal, all-powerful witch. Since no one is going to correct me about the erroneous belief that I'm the Chosen One, maybe we could... talk about how to defeat Salem?

Blake: No. Let's worry about that later :)

Ruby mid Volume 9: Okay so my mental health is getting even worse due to a number of factors, but one crucial piece of this puzzle remains the fact that we have no plan for once we escape the Ever After. Shouldn't we be re-evaluating our priorities? What does it matter if this, that, or the other thing occurs if Salem destroys everything the moment we get back?

Yang: Ruby, that's evil Ironwood talk. Stop it :(

Ruby end of Volume 9: You know what I've learned this Volume? None of it matters. My grief, my mistakes, the burden of sought-after leadership when you're entirely ill-equipped to manage this situation... it's all meaningless. I've been taught over and over that attempts at self-improvement are morally reprehensible distractions because true heroes accept themselves exactly as they are, growth be damned. So now that I'm facing the creator of our Gods, someone with unimaginable power, knowledge, perhaps even the ability to stop Salem herself... I'm going to ignore that! Why would we try to fix things? Why unify and ask for help? Why find a silver lining in this horrible journey? My job is to be the individual savior who wins through the power of slashing things with my scythe, a role I can once again fulfill now that I've stopped trying to improve myself. So goodbye, Blacksmith! Goodbye, Ever After! No need for your long-winded exposition dump to amount to anything. We've done exactly what we came here to do, which is leave :)

[akirathedramaqueen]

Two completely random things I might regret dropping here later. But I think I need to get it out of my system and maybe it'll help me stop being a whiny insufferable grouch I've become the last days partially because of today's episode coming out.

TW for self-hatred (mine) and suicidal thoughts (not mine, don't call psych ward on me, please; and it's not in the post itself, only in the song it mentions later on).

One.

Waiting for Ghostfuckers fucked me up completely. Like not in a fun way. In a 'I've considered dropping this show despite how much I love it' way. Because it touches on a topic so deep and personal to me I am not sure I want to be inadvertendly called out like that. So I stopped checking tumblr, I avoided any HB mentions, I couldn't write two lines in the fic without being triggered (so if I ignored your tags or messages or replies—sorry!). Don't know since when I've become so sensitive. I actually took pride in being quite callous to everything. But apparently here I am.

It's not like the show is the sole reason my mental health went down the drain in the past weeks. Of course not. It's just that was the last fucking drop which sent me spiraling.

If anything, I dare to say it actually helped me understand myself better in many ways and learn to try to accept some fuck-ups I've done with my life, that it might be just fine to be fucked up a little.

Reason for all this rambling? None. Guess I just relate to Blitzø hard in this way and I am afraid to see even uglier side of myself. And maybe if you feel the same way about the silly demon show, I don't blame you, I am with you. But fuck it, I embrace it. Fucking hit me with that episode and leave me in shambles. I'm not ready, but hey, I am the AT and the FUCKING PENGUIN SHORT survivor, it can't be worse than that, right?

RIGHT?

(Watch me fucking crawl in the corner and wail in like? 8 hours from now on?)

Two.

I have that song on repeat, and its chorus is what I think characterizes all Blitzø's actions. Not the song itself though. This is the case where I take the chorus out of context deliberately, because the rest of it, well . . . this is TW-worthy. Suicidal thoughts TW-worthy. Consider it your warning.

So I'm just focusing on this part.

My personal hell, I'll bury it, bury it Weight of the world, I'll carry it, carry it Pile it all on, I've gotta be strong For somebody, for somebody Put my pain in a pill, I'll swallow it, swallow it Too numb to feel, I'm hollow, I'm hollow I have to hold on, I've gotta be strong For somebody, for somebody Somebody else

It's so Blitzø, isn't it?

Burying his trauma so that he can get through another day. Not realizing it keeps chipping away from his life however he tries ignoring it.

Swallowing his immense guilt and act brash. Put his pride on display, not realizing it's not the opposite of shame, but its source (I thank ATLA for this great quote).

Taking responsibility for literally everything happening around him. No matter if he could help it or not.

He's gotta be strong, he has to hold on and pile it all on. For somebody. Somebody else, who matters more than he does.

[immediatebreakfast]

This chapter feels like the point of no return between Victor and the creature, and we as readers haven't even read about the creature himself since that meeting in the storm. Only the chain of consequences made from what it seems to be a planned revenge against Victor.

So, both Justine and William's death took a toll on Victor, to the point that he has been self isolating himself again. A pattern that he started while he was a student, but this time it feels really grim because while the latter was a consequence of Victor's uncontrolled ambition over his experiments, the former is the result of all Victor's suppresed feelings since he came back. The guilt, the shame, the hate, the rage, the years, all of it it's neatly packaged in Victor's minds to repeat to himself again, and again.

At this point, Victor's mental health is in shambles. Any recovery, and progress he had made with Clerval at the university is untangled, and gone. Along with his father's really unhelpful advice, and poor Elizabeth dealing with her own mental troubles, and loss of innocence. Victor is now once again trapped in a guilt cycle of his own making, this time with no one to get him out of it.

It seems that the narrative is hinting to another mental breakdown in this trip. More placed with Victor's constant suicidal ideations plus his self imposed isolation, and this time the difference in his environment might send him to spiral worse since (and this is just my perspective here) none of the characters who went on the trip have the emotional characteristics to deal with, or help Victor.

Futhermore, Victor will stay with them because his sense of duty to his family's safety overules his own feelings over his own well-being. So Victor shall go to the trip no matter how miserable he feels.

[detransdamnation]

Did you/do you take any psychiatric medications with or without success? Do you have an opinion of psychiatry as a whole?

sending you a hug or a cup of tea if you prefer.

Yes, I was put on an antidepressant shortly after I was diagnosed with dysphoria and other mental health conditions. My doctor thought it would help me manage my dysphoria until I started my medical transition.

It was an extremely negative experience. I've been chronically suicidal ever since I was about seven years old, and still to this day, I have never felt as terrible as I did when I was on that drug. I almost hung myself in my best friend's closet not even a week after I was put on it. Then, after that storm cleared, I just kind of... withered. Regardless, I would remain on the drug for years afterwards with increasing dosages because the doctors had no idea what else to do with me. It seemed the protocol, if one didn't respond in therapy, was to drug the person up—even if said person was insistent, from the get-go, that their treatment was making them worse.

I tried advocating for myself but the amount of control I had in the situation was minimal because I was still only a teenager at the time and brain-fogged to hell. My being mentally unwell in general, I believe, also affected my credibility in the eyes of doctors. After I was finally permitted to taper off, I swore that I would never put myself through psychiatry again—if not for my own sanity, then out of refusal to be at the mercy of people who have the power to force me to continue taking pills lest I be labelled "a problem," or all the same, take them away when I need them most.

So, my opinion on psychiatry. I know there are a lot of thinkpieces discussing psychiatry being a pseudoscience, especially as of late. I neither agree nor disagree. I've not really delved into pieces relating to that specific topic, so I'm relatively clueless of the arguments and any studies or anecdotes which support them.

However, I am highly critical of it (psychiatry) at best, just as I am the current state of healthcare in general. I believe the psychiatric industry in its current state is overwhelmingly fundamentally similar to gender-affirming care insofar as masking symptoms rather than addressing conditions, as well as—often by nature—targeting vulnerable people who are all too often desperate to find a "quick fix" for their turmoil. I would feel uncomfortable purporting that psychiatric drugs should be abolished in their entirety because I understand they are truly necessary to manage mental health conditions in some individuals; however, I also believe they can be more maladaptive than empowering in the long-term and should therefore only be experimented with in urgent circumstances, or as an absolute last resort. Many mental illnesses are byproducts of our environment, whether in whole or in part, which strongly suggests that mental health treatment should involve not (exclusively) medication but removal of oneself from detrimental environments, and where not possible, life skills to help one to manage them.

All in all, I believe treatment constitutes a patient, of whom you generally eventually "let go" of once goals are accomplished and mental state has improved—but in these such worlds, psychiatry and the like, all too often, one creates a client, many of whom, even just anecdotally, never see an end to their suffrage even despite their long-term use of drugs which supposedly help them. I think I can, once again, acknowledge and support people who truly need medication to manage their mental health conditions whilst also expressing concern over the ethos of making people dependent on substances for their survival and functionability, particularly in cases wherein the mental illness(es) at hand can be demonstrably managed through self-help and lifestyle changes.

All this being said, my opinions have been shaped by very negative experiences, having grown up in a place where healthcare has been in shambles for more or less my entire life. You will receive a better, less biased opinion going to someone who has had a more well-rounded experience in psychiatry and healthcare.

Thank you for the kindness.

[froschshu]

The Game Is Afoot (spoilers!)

alice in borderland season 2, existentialism, interconnection

(i don’t know if this helps, but before any spoiler-specific parts i’ll asterisk it and block it :D)

informal

watching alice in borderland season 2 set my mind ablaze, and it didn’t help that i had a milk tea at like 12 am either. my mind was racing and raving over the contents of the show. and so, i feverishly typed into my notes app some interesting topics. fun fact, season 2 was released on my birthday!

season 2 of alice in borderland sets the adventure largely around the protagonists: arisu (kento yamazaki) and usagi (tao tsuchiya) facing new games and challenges, separating from differences in ideals, and coming back together to overcome the pains of their past and present in hopes of a better future. there’s also the story of the larger cast, but you can watch it and enjoy it on your own.

** quick summary of borderland, you play killer games to survive, categorized by the suits of the cards (referenced from hitc) and the higher up the value, the more challenging! **

1. clubs = cooperation, teamwork, trust

2. hearts = psychological, test mental resolve & preexisting trust

3. diamond = intellectual, critical thinking and analysis

4. spade = physical endurance

i loved seeing the themes of love and togetherness throughout the show. it seems cheesy, but since we, the audience, get to see love and togetherness in various forms through various relationships and dynamics, those themes feel more real and raw. in the world of borderland, you don’t just leave a game unscathed; the win can never just be a win for the tragedy of the losers is all too great. and thus, more themes are revealed.

one of the biggest questions in arisu’s journey is what does it mean to be alive? which then trails on to why are we alive? and why specifically did i live when people more deserving, like my friends, died? it’s clear that his mental health was left in shambles, but nonetheless he lives on and continues to build bridges with people, only to see them burned down from another game where life is at stake. arisu’s in a constant state of agony that it all just turns to mush. nothing matters.

this brings me to the film everything everywhere all at once. this feels like what goes on in season 2 of alice in borderland. evelyn (michelle yeoh) engages in the abusrdity of the multiverse with the perception that her life doesn’t amount to much despite her sacrifices in moving to america. arisu engages in the absurdity of the games with a similar perception inflicted by his life prior to borderland. and both characters become susceptible to the point of “nothing matters, what’s the point of living.”

** there's so much stimuli and conflict in the world of borderland. looming in the background is this killer mercenary -- the king of spades -- out to get arisu and his crew, he still has to clear games to elongate his time on his game visa, and he’s flirting it up with usagi? wow. **

and even in the breaks between games, the breaths that serve as relief, there lingers a fear of what’s worse to come. the chaos of borderland never ceases, and eventually nothing matters when there are no rules or morals to follow. negative nihilism takes over and eradicates your sense of purpose and hope in the world. arisu has some of the hardest decisions to make, all while motivating the people around him to want to get out. we see him internally wrestle with the nihilism that everyone around him has. it’s hard when someone you love decides that reality, the “real world”, is too painful to exist in. somehow death games are just a little better than reality.

what helps in the end, is patience, trust, optimism, love, togetherness. similar to everything everywhere all at once, you cross paths with people, and ultimately, it’s the shared moments with one another that make life worthwhile. it’s the sentiment of “i will always choose to spend this time, in this space, out all the universes, being with you.”

another thing to note: is there a definite reality? every character questions this at least once in their time in borderland; whether there’s a “real world” to return to after the games are over. who can they turn to and find comfort in once their proper timelines finally realign? do they go back to their regular lives working regular jobs or struggling through poverty or crime etc?

** the final queen of hearts game threw around so many potential (and kinda darkly humorous) explanations to borderland.

1. it’s a game simulation because we’re so technologically advanced and bored with our lives

2. we’re androids with implanted artificial memories serving as entertainment fodder for the rich who view it all from underground

3. every single experience was actually a coping mechanism for arisu to get through the trauma of his friends’ deaths as he battles the question of the worth of his existence

there’s also the ending, which feels uplifting because we’re watching all of our beloved characters (both new and old) turn a leaf. everything, even their memories of each other, has reset. cut to the final clip of the season -- a set of cards on a table, blown away by the wind, leaves a joker on the table. zoom in, more, just a little more, cut to black. we're back to eerie. so, have we really made it out? is this just another layer of the game? **

this game is like a thickly layered onion. finishing one layer of the game, first number cards then face cards, and yet after that, there’s more we’re not seeing. makes you wonder where you are, whether it’s worth going through all the tribulations for a peace that’s not guaranteed, and who’s behind all of this? what’s their motive? once we’ve reached the “light at the end of the tunnel” can we really say this is who we are as people?

what is life worth? (ooh existential transitional question that came out of nowhere-ish)

** there was a math game, where you guess the value of the average of every player’s guess multiplied by 0.8. you guess incorrectly, you lose a point (or 2) and once you reach -10 you burn in sulfuric acid. the game master was a lawyer who covered up a vaccine that could have saved so many lives had his company not be selfish and appease the rich who’d pay first for the treatment. he lost to chishiya (nijiro murakami) who was a doctor and had to prioritize children with parents in relation to directors and higher-ups in the hospital, leaving the poorer, helpless children behind. they both suffered with the burden of deciding who gets to live. they wonder why do they have to turn their backs on the people who need help the most? **

i think all i can say on the worth of life is that it blows and sucks to say that anyone’s life matters more than another. we can’t and shouldn’t dictate the importance of the lives of others. lowkey i find life inconsequential in the grand scheme of things since we exist and then we go. and yet we can immortalize ourselves (i wrote a paper on this) through our successes, our publications, our names scrawled in ink, the memories we’ve created with others. and yet there’s also so many ways to erase what should be immortal.

life is not simple, and there are too many discriminatory systems like capitalism, racism, colonialism, with a douse of corruption. at the end, in the face of death, we are all the same as we try to answer how we got to this point right before death, but in a snap, we are gone.

as i dwell on the meaning of life through this (from wiki) “Japanese dystopian science fiction thriller drama” via netflix, my reality check sets in. they’re actors, the plot isn’t real, we are not completely engulfed in a simulation of pure torture. if we are, then wow we are so self-aware of our suffering.

reminds me of buddhism, a topic my friend R talks about a lot. life is a cycle of suffering, it’s inescapable as much as i, or the characters of alice in borderland, try to overcome or weasel around it. i am just trying to cope and evade the pain of living.

in reality, whatever i can perceive of it, life is like a rollercoaster of highs and lows with crests that can peak higher than i’ve ever seen and troughts that plummet so far down i don’t even realize there’s a rise to come. and that’s okay. cliche ending i know. thank you for making it this far. i, as you might be, am very impressed with all that i’ve been able to say in the two-ish hours i spent typing this piece up.

i also learned some new vocabulary!

prevaricating: speak/act in an evasive way

repugnant: repulsive OR in contrast to

i love shows and theories, and although i didn’t explore every nook and cranny, although i may have not gone to levels as deep as i wanted to, i still wrote. i made something out of art. i appreciate the themes that foreign shows have to offer in a way american ones don’t. it makes me think more and appreciate art and life while i’m at it.

now here are some fun photos from alice in borderland:

[torisvetlife]

not sure what I am doing, but I want to try

I'm a vet student but I have been severely struggling since I began this degree. I've had to repeat 2 courses and I discontinued my studies for a year due to mental health. The year passed and I am no better. Next year I'll be retaking a course I failed this year and it is my last shot at this degree and I am terrified.

I'm not just struggling with my studies, my personal life is in shambles as well.

I feel like everything began to go downhill when the pandemic started. Pre-COVID, I was still in undergrad and I was so passionate and hardworking, I never took a break. I juggled classes, part-time job (that I did more like full-time) and research projects. My plate was always full-to-overflowing and I had to sneak in breaks for reading, watching tv/movies and just relaxing. It was stressful but after years of functioning that way, it was my normal and more importantly, I was productive. I was good at my job, school was okay (could've been better) and I did really well in my research. I did feel overworked but I was still having productive results in my life.

Then COVID happened. And I was also done with undergrad by then. So, I was locked indoors, with too much time on my hands and a huge repressed depression that I kept at bay by constantly moving. I feel like since COVID, I've lost my passion, my dedication, my discipline. But it didn't happen all at once. At the beginning, I had veterinary school applications to keep me occupied; essays to write and references to get. It kind of started going downhill when I got accepted into vet school.

First year was online and I did not adapt well. I made the mistake of continuing my work with my school work, as if grad school isn't on another level entirely. And just juggling the lectures, pracs, tutorials, study time with work and sleep, it was hell. The university I attend also has a completely different way of grading and testing than what I was used to so I did not test well. I even tried group study meetings, ended up teaching my classmates easy ways to remember things, and still would perform worse than them. It was a blow to my self-perception. And it only got worse when I failed. It meant I had to wait another year to try again. I didn't let it get to me, though. I was hell bent on trying again, so I did.

This time, it was no longer online. I moved from home and into a dorm, and had to adapt to a whole new dynamic that I was used to. Second time around, in person, wasn't that much easier but I managed to pass. My mental health was not the best, and I had a lot of issues with connecting with my classmates, making friends, asking for help; just keeping up with this new fast paced life in general. Second semester came around and my mental health got worse. I was clinically depressed and I was just ready to give up on life. When I say that I was shocked to have passed, I am not exaggerating. It was truly by the skin of my teeth but I managed. And during the summer break I just pretended that entire semester didn't happen and tried to "move on". But that just spelled downfall for the following year, because (1) I had learned nothing the previous semester and I didn't have the background knowledge I needed to learn this new information and (2) my mental health struggles caught up to me, everything from my undergrad studies to starting vet school till then, and I crashed. Hard.

I was suffering from insomnia, I wasn't really eating and I began to self-harm. All of that led to me to discontinue my studies for the year to focus on bettering my mental health, and I thought I did that. I started my second year and it was no better. I got diagnosed with OCD and ADHD (and my doctor didn't want to medicate me for either one). But I had a new beast to battle: I couldn't find the motivation or interest to study. The epitome of executive dysfunction. I managed to go to classes and tutorials and everything, but as soon as I returned home, I would be so bone-deep exhausted that I would just sleep (I commute via public transport, which is a pain). So, I didn't really study and the material just accumulated until I didn't have enough time or brain capacity to learn everything. And I didn't pass my classes. I actually failed 2 of them. Apparently, I just don't test well. It was so unexpected, I couldn't stop crying for 2 weeks straight.

Next year is my last chance. I wanted to try and review everything from the beginning, because I need to get that fundamental baseline understanding to perform well in the following years of my degree. But I'm still struggling with that lack of drive, lack of purpose, lack of motivation. I am still aware of my long-term goals but they don't fuel me enough to get through this now.

I know it might only be making it worse, but I'm not on my medications currently and I am unable to see my therapist because I can't afford to.

[brokendarkfairyempressforever]

Tests scores and grades define me and I want to cry

Do you know how messed up this is

I had a teacher who didn't prepare us well

I didn't know how to study for it

So much home life crap

So much mental health illnesses that I can't get help

One god awful morning of AP bio test day

And I didn't get a good score on it

I had to deal with so much life stuff that no one else in a million years would ever live through and I had so much trouble staying alive let alone passing my classes

B+ at the end of the year it's fine

But it means nothing

Cause it doesn't count

I have to take the test again or take the course in college

Well guess what?

I was so fucking excited for AP bio I love bio I couldn't wait to learn

And I thought I was gonna have a therapist I thought I'm finally gonna get help it's gonna be okay, hard, but okay

BUT GUESS WHAT

I'M NOT PRIORITY

WHO FUCKING CARES THAT MY MENTAL HEALTH IS IN SHAMBLES

IM DYING EVERYDAY

YET NO ONE GETS IT

LIVE IN MY HEAD ONE DAY AND YOU WOULDN'T SURVIVE

YET I CAN'T SHOW MY TRUE WORTH SO EVERYONE THINKS I'M DUMB WHO WHO CAN'T DO ANY OF THE WORK EVEN THOUGH I'M TRYING BUT I CAN'T I CAN DO IT BUT SOMETHING IS HOLDING ME BACK AND THE ONLY PEOPLE WHO UNDERSTOOD WAS MY LATIN AND HISTORY TEACHER WHO HELPED ME AND GAVE ME ENCOURAGEMENT AND I WAS ABLE TO SHOW MY TRUE WORTH. MY CHEM TEACHER HELPED ME IN OTHER WAYS THAT I'M STILL GOOD ENOUGH HE HELPED ME LEARN THE MEANING OF FUN, HE HELPED ME BE A KID AGAIN. AND I WISHED I JUST ASKED HIM FOR HELP INSTEAD OF BEING SCARED OF EVERYTHING

IF I WAS FUCKING NORMAL I COULD OF GOTTEN GRADES I DESERVED. THAT I'M GOOD ENOUGH

WHY CAN'T I JUST SHOVE IT AWAY LIKE I USE TO. NOTHING HAPPENED TO ME I'M FINE NOTHING HAPPENED SO I SHOULD BE NORMAL I CAN DEAL WITH THAT CRAP WHEN I'M 40

NOTHING HAPPENED TO ME ANYWAY THEY HAD IT WORSE

WHY AM SO SAD, SCARED, ANGRY, ANXIOUS, EXHAUSTED, BURNED OUT NUMB, NOT KNOWING HOW TO INTERACT WITH ANYONE, NOT KNOWING HOW TO CONTROL MY THOUGHTS, NOT KNOWING HOW TO CONTROL MY FACE RIGHT, NOT KNOW HOW TO CONTROL MY EMOTIONS, I CAN'T DO ANYTHING RIGHT I'M SO DUMB AND USELESS AND WORTHLESS I CAN'T DO ANYTHING RIGHT EVERY DAM DAY I HATE MYSELF I HATE MYSELF

I HATE IT HERE I HATE IT HERE I HATE IT HERE

EVERYONE GETS MAD AT ME

EVERYONE COMPLAINS TO ME

EVERYONE VENTS TO ME

EVERYONE GETS SAD AT ME

I STRESS EVERYONE OUT

I TAKE EVERYONE'S STRESS

AND I CAN'T DO ANYTHING

AND EVERYONE SUFFERS

IM AN IDIOT

I'M WORTHLESS

I'M USELESS

I HATE MYSELF

I HATE IT HERE

[joshuasearing]

Saturday 2nd December 2023

So yesterday started of with me struggling to get out of bed then being late to work. To make things worse it was freezing cold, then once at work they had me running parks occationally out in like 0 Celsius. After a while I got put on break and it was snowing. I did worry that I was not going to make it to my tattoo appointment but luckily it was all good. Anyways after about 30 minutes it stopped. Anyways after work I quickly got changed then waited at the bus stop then I got the bus. Then out of the ordinary this is but my bus crashed into a car but it was the cars thought I think. Basically the road we were on there is a bus lane then it merges into the other part of the traffic and becomes one lane. So the bus moved over like it usually does and this car just carried on moving forward. I didn’t witness this as I had my headphones on and was too busy listening to my music. But I did hear this scraping noise and wondered what it was then the bus stopped. Then the bus driver after a while of sitting in the stationary bus said he can’t carry on the journey as the car driver wanted to call the police. Anyways I took a photo of the car and it was ok it just had a bit of bumper and bit messed up. Also luckily no one was injured. Anyways I ended up having to walk the rest of my journey to the tattoo shop. Also on the walk there this guy got out of he’s car and was having an arguement with this girl behind and blocking all of the traffic. This happened in a matter of minutes after I left the bus scenario. Once I got to the shop I sat down for a little bit then someone happened which caused my intrusive thoughts to be playing up and left me in a really weird mental state as was being quiet. Then after a while I spoke placement and size of the tattoo with my tattooist. Then I got the tattoo done. The tattoo I got yesterday was warrior in red ink which is really nice and is on my left bicep. After the tattoo, I walked to the gym however only had about a 20 minute session as my tattoo cover was coming off so I decided to take it off then clean it. Then once I was walking home I spoke to Faith for a little bit and got my cookie dough ice cream for the shop. Once I got home I had some food and also shaved for the first time in a month as it is now December and movember has came to an end. I ended up raising £138 for men’s mental health which is really good.

Now for today same shit struggled to get out of bed. Also work was a shambles today it was ridiculously busy and we were severely understaffed. At one point it was so busy they had me doing just muffins in the morning for about an hour as the muffins were going so far. Also we had so many complaints today but there was only a certain amount I could do. Once the shift finished I got changed then went to the bus stop. Once I was about to get there the bus arrived so I ran a little to make sure I got on the bus. Then I got the bus to the gym. Today I went to the gym with Morgan from work and we did back and also legs for the most part. After are session I walked home got my cookie dough ice cream and ate it once I got home. Since I’ve been at home I’ve just been relaxing which is annoying but I think it is because I’m just so exhausted. I have also posted a few TikToks. Anyways bye journal!

Photos from today! ⬇️

[azulapocalypse]

I'm so tired.

I'm so tired of feeling like I'm working hard only to be tossed aside. What was the point of putting forth so much effort and working so hard at my job for them to show me how expendable I am for them.

I was moved to a position I know I am not good in. Call Centers, I am not good with talking to people, let alone strangers. I am painfully empathetic, and I take things easily to heart. Daily, I have people calling and yelling at me about things I can't control, and I understand their feelings and frustrations. I do, but I don't have the ability to help them, and that sucks. I take all of that to heart and feel like shit that they are going through things and I can't help. Then there are the people who call just to yell at someone, and I am required to just sit there and listen as long as they are not attacking me personally.

I don't have the mental fortitude for that. I sit and cry during lunches and breaks at times because I don't think I can keep doing this. My mental health is in shambles because of this job, I am no longer happy, and I can feel my mind going to a dark place, and right now, there isn't much I can do.

Even if I wanted a different job, I would need to have the mental capacity to apply. Then, it would be putting myself out there for interviews. Not to mention, I bought a house 6 months ago, so whatever job I get, I need to be able to afford to live, or I lose the very thing I worked so hard to have.

Yes, life could be worse. I know that and I have plenty to feel thankful for, but it's hard when your brain is your own worst enemy and you are in a darkness that gets worse the more and more people treat you like shit and the more and more you see of the world. A world where no one care about another person.

I might have lost my father two Christmases ago, but I never forgot the things he taught me. Never forgot his outlook on life and how he always told me to help my fellow man, and this job doesn't help me do that and it makes it so hard just to want to take another breath and have another day to work just to live.

[cherrysnax]

[shokami]

santa baby . . . ; gojo satoru

synopsis : “… from flowers, to accidental meetings, and hidden worlds — will lies and fear of the unknown turn into a christmas dream, or an aching heartbreak?”

chapter seventeen : the ocean and moon

previous | next . . . series masterlist

warning(s) : self doubt, described violence and death, nightmares, vague mentions of depression and anxiety

word count : 2.1k

authors note : this is mostly a filler chapter, and giving y/n a grieving period + being reliant on gojo and building their relationship emotionally. there’s only two chapters left before the finale that will be somewhat short— so look forward to this series ending this week!

It had been a month and half since the Christmas Gala. A month and a half since everything went horribly wrong. You were still stuck in your head, spiraling behind closed doors, and shutting down more and more. The only people you've seen willingly were Suguru and Satoru. They were understably worried, but the adjustment to only being a human was one that had taken a great toll on your mental and physical health. Everyone had planned to get better after that, but it didn't.

It got worse.

… but only for you.

You struggled in understanding why Suguru had suddenly come back from the dead. Your brain had not yet comprehended it. From the explanations, you were kept utterly in the dark. Geto had not truly been dead, like you all had presumed. His soul was fighting to break through from the imprisonment he had fallen into. Kenjaku was a curse of his own, and had tossed the Sorcerer world into shambles. As much as you didn't understand, it was even harder on Gojo.

Now though, you laid asleep on Gojo's lap. His fingers carding through your hair, and brushing over your skin as he had lulled you to sleep. Little did he know, sleep was the last thing you wanted these days. Every dream was filled with their faces. Mei Mei screaming, begging for your forgiveness, Toji asking for a second chance, Akiko and Hinata finding out that Mei had died at your hands… Had you not sold your abilities to the Devil, perhaps you would have been able to escape the memories and the pain.

"Why did you do it?"

"What?"

"Why did you do it, Y/n? You killed me! Why couldn't you see the truth? He forced me to do it! Why couldn't you understand that I wouldn't ever willingly give you up like that?! You were my best friend, and without mercy you SLICED MY FUCKING HEAD OFF!" Mei Mei screamed in your face, her hands placed on your shoulders as she violently shook you. "You better explain to my brother, and OUR friends what really happened!"

You shook your head, trying to grasp what was happening in that moment. Was this real? Was it a nightmare? You couldn't decipher it. That, however, didn't stop the tears streaming down your cheeks as you tried to break away from her hold. "You died, because of your own actions…" you tried to reason, "You weren't sorry, Mei! You wanted me out of the picture, don't lie to me!"

"WE WERE LIKE FAMILY!"

"MY ONLY FAMILY IS SUGURU, AND YOU LIED ABOUT HIM!" you finally screamed, breaking away from her. Mei Mei stalked closer, side by side with Toji, the inverted spear of heaven now in her hands. She was covered in blood, a deep scar wrapped around her neck from the act you had committed. The woman had a terrifying grin plastered on her face.

As you looked around, you realized Toji was no longer in sight until you backed into him. His arms wrapped around you tightly and held you in place as Mei approached you. She drove the spear directly into your heart, causing a scream to squeeze out of your throat; feeling as if it shattered your esophagus. "Stop! You don't have this hold on me! This is just a nightmare!"

"Is it, Y/n? If that's true… Then allow me to be the worst one you've had!"

"Then you have a lot of other nightmares to beat."

Plunging the spear further into your chest, you forced it into Toji's chest before kicking Mei Mei away. You stand above her, officially over the nightmares and guilt. She looks up at you with fear, and hatred as you slide the weapon out of you now-- blood pouring out freely.

"Who made you like this?" she asked, her voice shaky.

"I did." you paused, an annoyed look crossing your features as you stared down at her. The spear re-cut her head off, and it rolled a few centimeters as she cried and whined. "Oh shut up, you whiny bitch." tossing the spear away, you picked her head up. "When this is all over, I want my sanity back."

The scene around you suddenly shifted, you were now standing on the edge of a skyscraper, overlooking Tokyo city. You knew it was still a part of the nightmare, as you glanced around. You weren't so easily fooled now, you knew your true self was sound asleep in your boyfriend's lap in the safety of his apartment. Then you heard his voice, Gojo stood on the same ledge with a frown dawning on his perfect lips.

"You've caused me a lot of problems, ya know that? I should have taken Mei Mei's words about you." he looked at you, the blindfold clutched in his hands. "I don't think I'll be capable of truly  forgiving you for this. Not this time…" 

You laughed. "Oh, please. You're the principal of Jujutsu High now, and your best friend is back! Not to mention… I did save your ass, babe."

Gojo clenched his jaw at that, crossing his arms over his chest. "You think you're cute, don't you?"

"The cutest." Adjusting your stance, your hand tightened on the spear that materialized back into your hand. Lifting it in the air, you tossed it in his direction with anger, and force just as it pierced through his chest and he gasped. You knew it was the only way out of this repeated nightmare, as you had lived it one too many times.

"Why?"

"... because I do this bullshit eight times a week."

Suddenly, you sat up with a loud gasp. Straining your eyes at the sunlight peeking through the curtains, you adjusted your gaze and took a deep breath. Warm hands rubbed up and down your arms, attempting to soothe you as he spoke soft words in your ear. Your abrupt waking startled Gojo from his own nap, and he felt your energy going haywire as you twitched. Glancing over at him, you shook your head and dropped your head down into your hands.

Gojo's hands drifted around your waist as he sat up more, and pulled you into his embrace; cooing at your shaken state. "Talk to me, little flower… What happened?"

Your hands tremble slightly, searching for his as your eyes screwed shut tightly; willing the dreadfulness of the nightmare to fade away. As you didn't answer his question, he allowed you to sit in silence, instead offering you only physical comfort. Really, that's all you had needed in that moment.

Your head felt like a jungle, crowded by tall trees that obscured your line of vision from the sky and beams of light. It trapped you in an overgrown darkness, danger looming around each corner like a wild animal ready to pounce on you, and eat you alive. Though the days were more bearable, and you could breathe more freely; you still felt the impending peril of the night, and the fear that would overtake you when sleep finally came. That's why most nights you stayed awake, doing mundane tasks and only taking naps during the day with Satoru. Those were your most peaceful sleeps.

… but it seems the terrors were now invading even those times.

Even if you told yourself you'd get past this, it felt like they were just open ended words that held no meaning. Every day you fought off the demons from your past, and the present. It almost felt as though you were never going to truly win. Acceptance was a fickle thing, and no matter how hard you tried- you couldn't find yourself able to conform to the standards of that word. As much as you willed yourself to speak, you found yourself growing more mute by the day. The silence was no better though. It felt like a shadowy hand had wrapped around your throat, and slowly squeezed the life and words out of you. It terrified you.

Gojo had taken several days away from the school, and work, to aid you. Never once leaving your side. He didn't care if you spoke, cried, slept in his arms, or sat staring at him as he read one of your books aloud for you. Many nights had been spent huddled up on his balcony, listening to the rain fall; because that is what calmed you most. 

"I don't want to feel this way anymore, 'Toru…" you finally breathed. "I feel like I'm draining the life out of you, and taking your time away."

Those two sentences hurt him more than anything he had ever gone through. He felt it at that moment. Terror, guilt, fear for your sanity. What if he had never regained his precious little flower, who once held the most beautiful smile in the world? He couldn't lose that… "You breathe life into me, not drain it away."

Glancing up at him, you held a sort of bleakness behind your eyes. When you looked at him, your heart would beat just a second quicker. Looking at him, was escaping the darkness surrounding you. He wasn't like the sun, or a perfect shot of espresso like the romance novels described. Nor was he the stars up above. Gojo Satoru was the ocean, and the ocean petrified and intrigued you all at the same time. Just five percent of the earth's waters had been explored, and you nearly sat on the surface waiting to dive deeper and explore what was underneath the calming waves. But you? Well… In this scenario, you were the moon. Erupted with beauty, and cascaded with darkness in a vast sky of the unknowing. You know what they said about the moon. It was the center of gravitational pulls in the ocean. It was the reason for high, and low tides-- and you were the reason Satoru could so easily bend and contort to your needs. You relied on one another, because without the other, you lost purpose. 

It was cheesy, you knew that… But it was true.

Those eyes; a sea of crystal blues… 

They spoke a million truths that words would never be able to capture.

"I love you," you breathed out the words. Your body went from stiff and rigid, to feeling like a wave that you were floating adrift in. "I know that's sudden, and we've only just met a few months ago but--"

"I love you too."

"You do?"

"... I do."

When the three words had left your mouth, you weren't counting on him saying it back to you. No, you had simply wanted to express the emotion that he made you feel. Now, you sat awestruck; unbelieving that a man on the verge of perfection could love someone like you. A void of desperation, greed, selfishness, and every book in the word that held a negative connotation… Yet, here you were. Hearing Satoru tell you that he loved you. "Why?"

Gojo laughed. Not one of sincerity, or humor. "How?" he repeated. "Because you make everyday interesting. You deal with a self-righteous man, who believes he has all the power in the world to right the wrongs of others and prefect a safety net for those he cares about… because with you, I don't have to worry rather or not you'll wake up one day and resent me… because with you, I am unapologetically myself-"

"You better stop speaking now, because if you continue… I may actually cry." you spoke truthfully, tears already threatening. Leaning up within his grasp, you placed the softest kiss upon his lips that spoke for itself.

"That's alright, little flower. Whenever you cry, for whatever the reason may be, I will always be there to kiss away your tears." Gojo leaned in, capturing your lips with his again. It was different this time. From every kiss you've shared, this one held a thousand words, filled with passion, bliss, and a shred of pure serenity.  "Letting someone love you… It isn't a crime, and it does not make you weak. I learned that the hard way." The palm of his hands encased your cheeks, and his thumbs made a movement to wipe away your escaping tears. "So, allow me to love you the way no one has ever loved you before."

And that he did…

Gojo Satoru gave you a love that you could not even offer yourself. He was the ocean, revolving around you and only you… Because when push came to shove, he had you for always.

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