#school/mental illness is kicking my ass

[miawashere]

why selfcare is important!!

i know this is way different from what i normally post, but as someone who’s been feeling a little down i want to make sure everyone else is okay!!

selfcare isn’t just washing your face and brushing your teeth (although it helps, imo) but also checking up on yourself and improving mental health! meditating, checking your stress levels, and limiting social media usage are great ways to make sure you’re mentally doing okay, and just remember that it’s okay to be down sometimes. my dms are always open if anyone needs to vent or talk, and make sure to check up on those you care about!! much love <3

[cyanid-apple]

Part of a malloysicals tarot game collab. This is Little God from Octet as the Page of Wands.

[kannady]

more than gold

pairing: sylus x non-mc reader

summary: you were getting flashbacks of a previous life or maybe you were just going crazy. a man lingered in your memories, plaguing your heart and mind. and who was desperately in need of your help?

a/n: where the extent of my creativity ends, @silverianni's begins. wonderful idea, but a not so great execution. im afraid i might not be able to write it in the way you anticipated. honestly, im not proud of this at all LMAO. but ill try my best. heres a snippet for now. its very basic but theres a couple more chapters to go. and once again, i cannot express how much i hate how i wrote this. but then again its 5 am. let me know your thoughts or should i even continue it?

Trudge. Trudge.

It was eleven, and you had just gotten off work. Sometimes you liked working at the local bar, but most of the time, like today, it was a pain in the ass. One drunk customer refused to leave, drowned himself in liquor, and forced you to sit through his sob story about how his wife caught him cheating and ruined his life.

Sigh.

You almost knocked some sense into him. But for what? He wouldn’t give a shit, and you’d lose your job. Not exactly a win-win situation. So you hoped you’d see him somewhere else. And maybe today was your lucky day.

“Come on, sexyyyyy! Let me take—” Hiccup. “—you ‘ome.” He flashed a grin at a young schoolgirl who had just stepped out of the academy.

“No, thank you, mister. I’m quite alright,” she replied politely, trying to step around him. But he grabbed her wrist.

“No!” he shouted, catching you off guard. “You brats ‘ave no respect for the elderly!” His grip tightened, and he started dragging her toward his car.

Time to strike.

You sprinted forward, swinging your satchel hard against his head. With a grunt, he released the girl, clutching his skull in pain. She seized the moment, darting away with a breathless “Thank you!”

“YOU! How dare you—” He tried to throw a punch, but you dodged effortlessly. “I’ll make this short.” A sharp kick to his groin sent him crumpling to the pavement, writhing and howling.

Smirking, you crouched beside him, slipping a hand into his pocket and retrieving his wallet. Your brows lifted. He was loaded. With feigned innocence, you slipped a hundred-dollar bill into your pocket. “You forgot to tip me.”

A satisfied smile spread across your face as you turned and walked toward your original destination.

“Only you and this flower… can touch me here.”

A whisper, hot breath grazing your neck. Instinctively, you clenched your fists and whirled around. “Okay, back the-” Alone. In the middle of an isolated alley. “-fuck up?” You scanned the area but found no one. Just a cat rummaging through the trash.

You frowned, confused. You’d definitely heard someone, someone who had been right behind you, whispered in your ear, then vanished. You were a bartender, but you never drank on shift. So you weren’t imagining things. Still, this wasn’t the time or place to dwell on it.

You kept walking until you reached your destination. For some reason, your friends thought a midnight get-together was the perfect way to spend the weekend. A few hours ago, you’d have agreed. But now, you were exhausted, physically and mentally. And that eerie whisper clung to your memory like a stain. You just felt… off. Shaking away your unease, you stepped into the restaurant, greeted by laughter, clinking glasses, and the familiar hum of old stories, enough to drown out your worries for a moment.

You ordered dinner, downed a drink, and reminisced about the old school days. It felt good to laugh like this after so long.

Then you froze. The air turned to ice.

There stood a man, his gaze locked on you. Silver-white hair, slicked back, with a few rebellious strands falling over his forehead. His eyes were ethereal. Crimson, like wine spilled over snow. They didn’t just look at you—they pierced you. His frown was barely perceptible as he spoke.

“Before you tried to kill me, did you consider it’d end like this?”

Suffocation. Like the oxygen had been sucked from your lungs. You gasped. “What the hell?”

“See! I told you it was a bad idea. Anyone would react like that.”

You blinked. Everything was normal again, just you and your friends, eating, drinking, laughing. No sign of the mysterious man. But the unease lingered.

You were not okay. You needed help. Now. Were you overworked? Drunk?

Questions flooded your mind. Absently, you excused yourself and headed to the restroom.

Staring into the mirror, you replayed the moment. Was it a memory? It felt familiar, like you knew him. But you couldn’t put your finger on it. The whisper in the alley, the glimpse of the stranger. What was happening to you?

You took a deep breath, turned on the tap, and splashed cold water on your face. Refreshing. Maybe you just needed sleep. That was the only explanation you’d accept. You weren’t crazy and you knew that.

Then you straightened and met your reflection.

“Please help me!”

Your head snapped around. Another voice. Female, desperate. Not a memory, but close. Too close.

[random-ikea-art]

been dead for so long hi gang!!

school has been absolutely kicking my ass (as always, but it’s the first month come on.)

GARVITY BALLS!!! HUMAN BILL!!!! IDK!!! SAVE ME PLS!!!

human bill design is mine im still making a few changes as i go as you can tell but ye!! they make me super mentally ill!!

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Lifeline

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: When Matt starts to shut down, your stubbornness saves him.

warnings: swearing, angst, panic attack description, pining buffoons, pre-relationship, Matt's mental illness and fear of abandonment

a/n: This is a short birthday fic for the wonderful @abucketofweird who wanted a fic similar to Renegade with Best Friends to Lovers. I hope you enjoy, my dear! 🥳🥰❤️

I know it's short and pre-relationship but there is plenty of angsty Matt! (Also, yes she calls him a million nicknames, but they're not ~explicitly~ together in this). Please let me know if y'all are tired of seeing me write crying!angsty!Matt because I know I write that a lot.

w/c: ~4k

Matt could still remember the day that the Devil had first emerged. It was before his accident, after witnessing a group of teens bully his elementary school classmate on her way home from school. Years of seeing his dad throw hits and his own unwavering moral compass had forged a new being within his own; his rage overtaking his consciousness, forming shaky fists and a flower across his face. 

At the time, he hadn’t known how to fight properly and had gotten his ass kicked. A few decades had passed and, though his ability had grown, his rage had stayed the same. 

Fury was a useful tool, most of the time. Allowing him to push through discomfort and injury until he’d taken down whatever evildoer he’d gone after that day. It was his wrath that kept him going, but it was also his biggest inhibition. 

The desire to beat powerful criminals bloody was overpowering. His gut boiled with anger anytime he heard someone crying for help, knowing that, more than likely, the only thing sparing them from that cruel fate was him—a blind Catholic with a chip on his shoulder and lacking self preservation skills. 

It was his rage that caused tunnel vision. Which in turn caused sleep deprivation, which led to more injuries. The cycle didn’t end there though, at least not recently. His tendency to prioritize his alter ego over his own health wasn’t something that could be solved by a simple nap these days. Not when he had people worrying about him, and when his efforts to meditate or find another outlet for his emotions remained futile. 

More injuries meant it was more difficult to hide them. A bullet wound in his stomach, a sprained ankle, these were more noticeable to his coworkers, to you. While you were eternally patient and understanding about his double life, his business partners were not. He tried his best to ignore Karen’s gasps and Foggy’s pointed stares every time he limped into the office or winced while pouring his coffee. Despite his efforts, it always aggravated him, fueling his rage and thus perpetuating the cycle further. 

This week, Foggy had snapped. Yelling at Matt for putting himself in danger, for jeopardizing their recent case—they’d had to postpone a meeting with the prosecution given the state of Matt’s face—and their firm. In return, Matt had lashed out. Screaming about the greater good and Foggy not trusting him. It quickly became an all out brawl, both men hurling insults at the other despite Karen warning them that they were going too far. But her intervention came too late. 

“You claim to be so worried about people leaving but I don’t see how that’s fucking possible when you try so hard to scare us off, Murdock. Guess what!? It’s working!” Foggy snapped, throwing his hands in the air with a huff. 

Logically, Matt knew Foggy didn’t mean that—at least not in the way Matt heard it—but his throat felt swollen anyway. His heart pounded, the argument sitting on his tongue dissolving as his mouth grew increasingly dry. Loosening his tie, Matt stalked to his office to gather his things. 

“You know what, I think I’ll work at home for a few days.” He spoke stiffly, throwing the strap of his bag over his shoulder. 

“Matt,” Karen took a step towards him but he refuses to acknowledge her placating tone. 

“I’ll see you in court next week. I’ll drop off my opening argument tomorrow night.” Without waiting for their responses, he retreated to his apartment. 

With every step along the damp Manhattan sidewalk, his irritation grew. His brain was flickering back and forth between despair and indignation, his hands itching to hit something. Tonight would be productive, that much was clear. 

Though he usually waited until the late hours of the evening to go out as Daredevil, his argument with Foggy had ignited an impatient buzzing beneath his skin—his muscles clenching and anger bubbling until he caved to the Devil. It was risky, dashing from roof to roof in his suit at dusk, but his patience had worn out hours ago. 

The night felt endless, yet it was over far too soon. He raced through the streets, taking down thug after thug, until a serrated blade caught him off guard. With a jagged rip across his thigh, he made for his apartment—planning to crudely stitch the wound before finishing what he’d started. 

As he approached his loft, his ears locked on to a familiar heartbeat, its pattering mulling about his place as he grew closer. Foggy had sent in reinforcements, he supposed, though he wasn’t thrilled about it. 

Opening the rooftop door, Matt stomped down the stairs, hurling pieces of his suit across the space as he ripped them from his overheated body. Pretending not to care about the spike in your heartbeat, courtesy of his pounding steps, he tore the mask from his face, setting it beside the sink before filling a glass with water. 

Fidgeting with your sleeve, you approached him slowly, saying nothing as he downed a glass of lukewarm water before jutting his chin at you. 

“Say what you’re going to say, then leave.” His voice was harsh and deep, the Devil still fully in control. 

You inhaled slowly, not scared of his current state, but clearly unhappy all the same. “What makes you think I have something to say?” 

Matt bit back a scoff. “Foggy sent you, which means you’re on his side and are here to tell me off.” 

“On his side…Christ, Murdock.” You were a few paces in front of him, just behind the counter, your clothes rustling as you crossed your arms in frustration. 

“Why else would you be here?” Matt stormed around you and into his bathroom, unbuckling the bottom half to sew himself up. If anyone else had been here, he might have been more worried about modesty, but you’d seen him in more compromising positions than this over the years. 

Gritting your teeth as you trudged after him, your arms remained folded against your chest. “Because I care about you, asshole. Karen told me what Foggy said. I was worried.” 

Your heart thumped steadily with your honest admission, eliciting a pang of guilt deep in Matt’s subconscious. He remained silent, rubbing a damp cloth over his wound to clean it up before he attempted suturing it. At his lack of response, you scoffed, “Don’t know why I was so worried. You’re clearly taking it very well.” 

Spinning to face you, his lips curled. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

“It means exactly what you think it means, Matt.” You snapped back at him, regretting it when his jaw twitched in response. Sighing, your voice softened. “You are so strong, and I know that Foggy and Karen give you a hard time but they’re not entirely wrong. It’s ok to ask for help.” 

“I don’t need their help.” Matt muttered, leaning against the cold porcelain sink in the bathroom. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” 

“No one is saying that you’re not.” You tried to reason, but he refused to listen. 

“I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what Foggy was saying, actually. How would you even know? It’s not like you were there.” He bit out, resentment prickling through his words. 

Ouch. He was right. You weren’t there. Because you’d taken a new job across the city. And he clearly was still not ok with that fact. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” You spoke gravely, brushing away a smudge of dirt on his cheek with your thumb. He tensed under your touch, but didn’t flinch away. “But you know that I don’t agree with what Fog said, right? Regardless of whether he meant it, it was wrong for him to imply—“

Shoving your hand from his face, his lips formed a scowl once again. “What? That it’s my fault? That people leave because I make them? Maybe he’s right.” 

“Matt, that’s not true. You know—“

“Don’t tell me what I know!” He roared pressing into your personal space, eyes blazing with fury. 

Breathing evenly, you shifted your weight away from him. Not flinching out of fear, just a natural reaction to his behavior, yet the movement still stung. Retreating from you, he picked up the cloth and refocused on the gash across his thigh. 

“Go home,” He spoke your name coldly. This wasn’t a question, it was an order. 

“Matt—“ You started but he glared at you. 

“Go.”

You nodded, pacing back into the living room to grab your purse from the couch. “Call me if you need anything, Matty. I’ll be around.” You spoke softly, your soft footsteps fading as you left his loft. 

Biting back an irritated snarl, Matt tread into the kitchen to grab a bottle of whiskey. Taking a full swig, he pushed his guilt and pain aside and picked up a needle. 

Burying your face in the collar of your jacket, you scrunched your nose as a particularly fierce gust of wind smacked you. Soldiering forward, you sped down the street towards the dimly lit building you were aiming for. 

It might be a mistake to return to Matt’s loft, but you couldn’t leave him there alone when he was so distraught. At least, not in good conscience. 

You respected his request for space, absolutely—taking time to return to your own apartment and retrieve his worn Columbia sweater, which you’d stolen a few weeks ago and simply not given back. It was soft and oversized, for you at least, making it ridiculously comfortable. But it was clear Matt needed that comfort more than you did right now. 

After tucking the garment in your bag carefully, you headed back out into the blustery evening to pick up a large order of food from Matt’s favorite Italian place. 

If he still didn’t want you there upon your return, so be it. But the man wouldn’t go cold or hungry on your watch, dammit. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust him to take care of himself, you just recognized that self-preservation wasn’t a priority for him when he was…like this. Brooding. Angry. 

In the decade and a half you’d known him, you had started to piece together Matt’s various moods and this was a common one. His heightened senses igniting something inside him that pulled him into fights all around the city. You couldn’t imagine the pain he felt hearing innocent civilians in trouble constantly. But eventually, he’d stop restraining himself. Sleep less. Eat less. Go to work, go out as Daredevil, and do it all again the next day—even when he was a jumble of exhaustion and bruises. 

In these moments, he was no longer your beloved Matthew Murdock. He was a candle, with a burning wick and a torch at his base. The wax slowly melting away, until his sanity was nothing but a distant memory. 

This was something you’d seen a handful of times when working with him and Foggy, even back when you three were just interns at Landman and Zack. It was the thing about Matt that you and Foggy argued about most these days. 

See, Foggy believed the solution to these episodes was to remove Daredevil from the equation altogether. You couldn’t necessarily blame the blond for thinking that, given how Matt’s vigilante antics impacted his work and his ability to be a good friend. 

Despite understanding Foggy’s concerns, your faith in Matt didn’t hinge on his nighttime activities. These periods of great stress were a sign that Matt needed support. Not an indication that he was no longer able to lead a double life. 

While the average person might snap or cry when they were overwhelmed, Matt would force himself to take more on. You assumed this was a symptom of the manipulation he’d endured during his youth. 

Matt hadn’t disclosed much about his childhood mentor, but you knew that he’d been encouraged to work through periods of distress, simply bottling up his feelings in order to ensure productivity. Given that he’d never had those beliefs challenged until well into adulthood, it was second nature for him to add more to his plate until he couldn’t anymore—whether that was because someone forced him to rest, or he was literally comatose. 

He’d confessed to you once—on another night like tonight when he was so tired of fighting everyone that he caved to your questioning—that rest wasn’t something that came easily to him. It was almost an enemy, in his mind, preventing him from helping as many people as he could. Resting meant he was a failure, and failing meant people would leave. 

This conversation lived in the back of your mind every time the dark haired man frustrated you. Every sleepless night spent pulling your hair out while you waited for him to text you that he was alive, every morning spent patching him up in the conference room because the walk to work had pulled his stitches out. Each and every time Matt’s other identity impacted your life, you reminded yourself that, in his mind, he didn’t have a choice. 

This time was no different. 

Though it probably didn’t help that Foggy had insinuated that he was thinking of leaving Matt. Not when Matt’s subconscious was desperately trying to pretend his life was balanced to keep everyone happy. Which is why you allowed yourself to be more stubborn than usual this dreadful evening, worming your way back into Matt’s home so he knew that he wasn’t in danger of being alone. 

Removing one ungloved hand from the safety of your fleece lined pocket, you yanked open the door to the restaurant, smiling softly at the hostess as her eyes met yours. 

“I have an order for pick up?” Giving her your name, you curled both hands back into your pockets, shifting your weight from foot to foot as you waited, somewhat impatiently, for your food. 

After what felt like an hour, the hostess handed you two bags stacked with containers, grimacing apologetically. “Sorry about the wait!”

“Not a problem!” You shrugged, grabbing the bags. “Thank you!!”

Dashing around the crowd forming behind you, your feet carried you the few remaining blocks to Matt’s building. Treading up the stairs slowly, you panted, taking a moment to breathe before making it to his door. 

Here goes nothing. 

You bypassed waiting for Matt to open the door, instead choosing to knock gingerly and use your spare key to unlock the door. 

“Matty?” You called softly, receiving no answer. 

Inhaling deeply, hoping you weren’t about to irreparably damage your relationship with Matt, you stepped over the threshold and into his space. Shuffling around the corner at the end of the hallway, you peeked into the loft, scanning it for any indication of your overworked friend—but there was no sign of him. No obvious one, at least. 

As you blocked out the muffled sounds of the city that had managed to penetrate the walls of the loft, your ears picked up a hushed sound from somewhere in the kitchen. A rapid whooshing—like panting, or choking. 

Rushing around the counter, your eyes widened in shock as you found Matt curled against the dark wooden cabinets. He was seated, but hunched over his knees, his hands tightly wrapped around his shins to keep his body in the position as he rocked back and forth. There was a jaggedly stitched line along his thigh, surrounded by mottled skin and goosebumps. Given his lack of clothing—he was only wearing his boxers—and the frigid temperature in the room, the poor man was shaking violently. A combination of his harsh breathing and his low body temperature, you assumed. 

As your presence became more noticeable, Matt tilted his head up, chin wobbling, eyes frantic and shining. Calling your name shakily, his weak plea almost made your own eyes well up. 

Crouching before him, you set the bags in your grasp aside, opening your palms to him. “It’s me, sweetheart. I’m right here. What happened?”

“D-don’t know. Can’t breathe.” Matt choked around the words, leaning towards you as you scrambled closer. 

“Can I touch—“ You asked, hesitant to take any major steps without explicit permission. 

“Yes. Please,” He sobbed, collapsing against your chest as your arms opened. 

“It’s ok. You’re ok, sweet boy.” You rubbed a hand over his back in a circular motion, using your free hand to guide one of his palms to your chest. “Feel my breathing?” 

Matt nodded against your chest, nails digging into your shoulder blade as he tried to get his breathing under control. 

“That’s my guy. Doing so good for me, handsome.” You praised softly, tracing your hand up his back and into his hair in the way you knew he loved. “That’s it, nice even breaths.” 

Unwinding your body from its squatted position, you sat on the cold floor, spreading your legs to allow Matt to fall into your lap. Perched across your thighs, Matt’s slowly stopped heaving. He was still covered in goosebumps and bruises, but his probable panic attack had been avoided for now. 

“There we go. Good job, honey. Feel a bit better?” You scratched diligently at Matt’s scalp, his skull knocking against your fingers with a nod. 

“Yes. Thank you.” He murmured, hot breath hitting your collar bone, a contrast to his icy skin. 

“Ok, sweets. Are you cold?” 

Another nod, making your lips twitch with a tiny smile. “Yah, stupid question. Here, put this on.” 

Pulling your bag over to you, you yanked out the sweater and handed it to him, mourning the loss of contact as he sat up to slip it on. After his chest was covered, his brow furrowed, a hand coming up to trace the text on the front of the hoodie. “My sweatshirt?” 

Cupping his stubbled cheek, you stroked a thumb over his jaw. “I brought it back. Thought you might need it tonight. C’mon honey, why don’t we go lay down, hm?” 

Allowing Matt to crawl off your lap, you drew him from the floor as you stood, laying your arm around his waist and holding him upright as he hobbled to his room. Tumbling onto the mattress, he haphazardly threw his sheets over his bare legs, curling into fetal position. His body was stiff, as if he was clenching every muscle to prevent writhing in pain. Sitting next to his waist, you fussed with the covers, drawing them more tightly around his rigid form. 

“There, that’s better. Just close your eyes and—“ you attempted to encourage the weary man to rest but his small voice interrupted. 

“You came back.” Matt spoke lowly, blinking back a new wave of tears. “You came back when I told you to leave.” 

“Do you need me to go? That’s fine, Matty, I’ll just—“ 

“No!” His hand shot out, wrapping around your wrist. “Please don’t.” 

“Ok, sweet boy. I’ll stay here. As long as you want me to.” 

Matt nodded once, tears trailing down his face again. “You came back.” No longer talking to you, it seemed that he was trying to make himself believe that he was no longer alone. 

Sliding down to face him, you ran a hand over his arm, letting him murmur silently to himself until he spoke to you again.

“I don’t think they’ll ever be happy.” 

“Who won’t be happy, handsome?” You asked quietly, propping yourself up on an elbow to study his face as he answered. 

“Foggy and Karen. Maybe you too, I’m not sure.” His voice cracked, tears pouring down his cheeks as he squeezed his eyes shut. 

“Hey, hey,” You shushed, drawing him back into your chest. “Oh, Matty—“

“What am I supposed to do?” His hazel eyes reopened, revealing a hopelessness you were shocked to see. “I hear people screaming for help and I…I can’t just lay here doing nothing. I don’t know how. And I try to explain but no one understands. I don’t know what to do,” When he uttered your name this time, it was a desperate request—to confirm that you understood, that you wouldn’t hold his actions against him. 

“Oh, Matt, honey, I’m so sorry.” You rested your chin atop his head as he sobbed into your collarbone. “Sweetheart, you are so good at what you do. You’re a fucking hero. No one is mad about you choosing to use every ability you have to help people, we just worry about you, sweets, that’s all. And, I can’t speak for the others, but you shouldn’t have to worry about making me happy, ok? As long as you’re alive—“

“He’s going to leave me.” Ah. That’s where his mind was getting stuck. The words were broken, Matt’s voice strained beyond recognition as he voiced his fear. “He’s going to leave me like you did.”

A lump of emotion clogged your throat, tears wavering against your waterline. “Matt, you know I didn’t leave because of you, right?”

He shrugged against you, body still trembling as he cried. 

“Matty, I adore you. I loved working with you and seeing you every day, sweets. I just couldn’t live on pies and hand-knit gloves in one of the most expensive cities in the country. I needed income, not an escape. I’m still here. I’m still yours.” 

Heaving out a shaky breath, Matt nodded. Caressing his cheek, you asked. “What did my heartbeat tell you?”

“Truth.” He whispered. The two of you sat in silence, your hand absentmindedly running through his mussed hair as his body stopped shaking. Just when you thought the fear of abandonment had been swayed for the night, he piped up one last time. 

“What am I supposed to do?”

“About Foggy?” You clarified, biting your lip when Matt nodded. With a sigh, you brought your fingers to his silky hair once again. “Matt, I am not psychic, I don’t know what the future will look like for the two of you, but I know that Foggy loves you. So does Karen, and so do I. And you don’t leave the people you love. You talk it out, you forgive them for their mistakes.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Matt whimpered. 

“I don’t think you have to worry about that. But I’ll be right here with you through it all, ok?” Pressing your lips to his forehead, you brushed a few strands of hair away from his face. “I don’t want to scare you, sweet boy, but I have to go into your kitchen for a moment. I brought some food with me that I’m going to put in your fridge for later. I’ll get you some water too. Anything else you need?” 

“Aspirin.” He murmured, blank eyes glossy with tears. 

“Of course, sweets. I’ll be right back.” With another brush of fingers over his scalp, you wriggled out from under him and hurried to the kitchen—shoving the food into his bare fridge while grabbing water and pills. 

He took the medicine you handed him diligently, his expression uncharacteristically blank. Draining the glass of water, he handed the empty cup to you without a word. You could see him slipping away into the recesses of his mind, trying to shove everything down once again, to handle it all himself. 

Sliding under the covers next to him, you wrapped him in a tight embrace as he buried his damp face in your neck. 

“Talk to me, sweets. What do you need?” 

“Just you.” Matt choked out, fisting your shirt in his hands as if worried you were imaginary. “Please.” 

“I’m right here. Always.” Kissing his crown, you ran a hand along his spine, humming softly as his breathing evened out. 

He wasn’t through the rough patch yet, but that was ok. You were going to be here regardless. And you’d tell him that every day until he believed you.

[anti-socialexperiment]

“Just got a perfect on rhythm heaven fever’s remix 10. Dude I’m so fucking excited I’m SO gonna brag.” - Jackie

“It’s been a while since I posted here, haha. Never did I think this would happen. I still need to find a place on the world now that I’m out of school, Veruca tld me there was a bathbomb place that may be a good fit. I’ll check it out.” - ALANNA

“Going Christmas shopping for my qpp ☺️ ! She deserves the little things 💜 .” - Lehana 🌱

“ i don’t think i need my onlyfans anymore ^^ i may still post here. anyways i got myself a gf and after a little bit of help (ovr 2 years LOL) i realized how unhealthy my sex habits were >m<!! i am not complaining, it is a struggle trying to heal but a good girl can survive!!” - angeline <3

“i haven’t posted in two years? oh. well I haven’t been online that much. might need to update my page… not like ill post that much” - nancy 🩸

“Life has been wonderful since my husband got arrested!! Going to meet up with a friend from the mental hospital for a pedicure! Je suis heureuse que nous ayons tous les deux grandi et survécu, Nounou.“ - ~ Viviette ~

“HOLY SHIT NEW TF2 COMIC!!!!!!

“ - melly !!!

“i have never felt more pretty ♡“ - Veruca

“me and tiya are going to this kick ass habachi restaurant to celebrate our clean streak!!” - “zeze 💥💥”

“I may had to give birth all those years ago. But I am happy I’ll rarely see that baby.. My brother took her in 2 years from now, and now I can heal. You can heal. We all can.” - Inka

[chamomillehoney]

since we're approaching yellowjackets season 3 release day and I still haven't moved on from season 1, I wanted to expand on the food/love metaphor the show has going on by raising you a headcanon that I've been thinking about for quite a while!!

before I start, I just want to make clear that 1) a good chunk of this is just me relating the story to my own experience, so it's not very objective and idk if it makes any sense, 2) i will try to tackle a sensitive topic to the best of my abilities, I hope I don't mess up, and 3) I've watched the show only recently, so I might be very late to the party and this might already be well accepted as practically canon, in that case I apologize for the redundancy

ok, what I want you to hear me out on is: jackie taylor with an eating disorder. please bear with me as I try to explain my messy thoughts.

so, the way I see it, one of the show's main themes is love, explored through food as a metaphor (and its most disturbing implications we're all well aware of). the other predominant themes are grief, guilt and shame.

here's the thing: most times (to my experience, at least) restrictive eds specifically stem from inner feelings of guilt, shame and inadequacy, triggered by societal pressure and the need to put up a perfect facade in order to hide whatever you feel inadequate for, hoping the guilt will go away if you respect this set of "rules".

it's renowned that jackie is the character that represents societal norms and that's why she's the first to die and be eaten and yada yada; it's made pretty clear that she's perceived as "the perfect one", based on the other girls' recurring comments. the need to be perfect at everything is actually a pretty common symptom in people with eating disorders, for all the reasons I've explained earlier. more often than not, it's not until the very last stages of the illness that the facade begins to crack and you start losing the control you think you had on your life (because you dont have the energy to keep it up anymore).

now, that is obviously not always the case; however, the reason I believe that behind jackie's picture perfect life there was this kind of mental illness is that she was living in the precise environment in which eds thrive: being a teenage girl high school, with demanding parents focused on appearances (dare I say, from what we've seen of the taylors), playing sports, etc.. furthermore, as I've said earlier, this pressure to be the best at everything stems from the need to cover up a sense of not being enough: and we know that jackie, for example, has probably felt dumb compared to shauna -- and here's where the comparison factor kicks in as well. she basically checks every possible box on the handbook.

so what does someone with a restrictive ed (fueled by these factors of perfectionism, guilt and comparison/societal pressure) do? they deprive themselves of food. because they don't feel worthy of it, as they are shameful and guilty. because, by doing so, they will achieve the perfect standards they set for themselves that will allow them not to feel so inadequate and guilty anymore.

so,,,,, after this long ass framework. given that jackie lives the archetypical life of someone prone to anorexia. if she were to be sick, let's apply the food/love metaphor: she feels guilty for something (eating/loving), therefore she deprives herself of something (eating/loving), to achieve society's approval (thinness/conventional love).

and what might possibly be the kind of love a young girl in the 90s felt guilty and ashamed for, that she deprived herself of, to achieve an "acceptable" kind of relationship?

[diaryofamadsunwukongfan]

Me, minding my business on Pinterest when

And since I'm a bitch I'm going to analyze it:

Abusers & oppressors getting their asses kicked: True (although I am interested in who the oppressor is in this context)

Empowering girls: Broadly true, but RW/BY's feminism has been criticzed in the past for stuff like most of the girls being trained by boys (Ruby & Qrow, Blake & Adam, Yang & Taiyang) or the fact that this gender equal society still has majority male leaders

Lgbt rep: Let's see, we have Blake & Yang (who are curiously only attracted to each other), Jaune's sister and her wife who at the very least got a decent amount of screen time for side characters, Scarlet (somehow less lines than Jaune's sister), Nolan I guess, a background character that got retcon to straight after the writers realized that introducing a gay character just to kill them off is bad, Illia (cute character, but the writing for her is an oof), and Marigold (who's voice actress is not coming back to the show, I wonder why...)

Disability rep: and here's where everything starts to go down the shitter. This show has one good disability representitive (Yang) and everyone else is a villain in some way (Adam, Neo, Ironwood, Tyrian, Cinder post v4). Note: Maria and Penny's dad only count as good rep when they are allowed outside the freezer Amity tower

Mental illness rep: I lol when I got to this part. Ok, once again Yang is decent rep for pwPTSD, and then you are once again struck with a sea of "scary crazy people" (Adam, Ironwood, Tyrian, Cinder post v4). Also, this is extremely minor, but the way Ruby & friends react to Mercury being "weird" (in school settings, thats usually code for neurodivergent) in ep 1 of v3 was... a choice (fun fact: childhood abuse causes a lot of mental disorders so... yeah)

Racial Diversity: Stop wasting my time and fuck off. Not going into detail again over this shows racist writing (note: the reason I have issues with Illia, Maria, and Penny's dad is because of said racist writing).

3/6, better luck next time I guess :/

[chewing-drywall]

How attractive I think the band are

*I am bisexual and mentally ill so take that as you will

Skiwsgaar- he's like a fine piece of art that I'd like to draw, he's beautiful objectively but speaking frankly I am FIVE FOOT NOTHING and his 6-foot-something tall ass would be LOOMING over me. Like I could not see him from any good angles if I was up close and that's the main reason. I mean hey he could help me get things from the top shelf I guess??(but yea also he probably has a multitude of stds that I don't really feel like potentially getting, same with any other member of the band I guess)

Toki- yea he's attractive, energetic personality, fucking shredded and likes cats and other crafty things (which is a plus for me). As a collector I like how decorated his room is. Either good or truly horrendous in the bedroom no inbetween. I however am not entirely into the facial hair, it's not something I could imagine on a real person existing. But yes he's hot he'd be an insane ass boyfriend though the baggage is INSANE

Nathan- I'd fuck him. I'd date him. I would be so good for him, please God I'd even get over my weird aversion to chips for him. He's like, not 100% my type, but he fits like 97% of it. He could throw me across the room, or so easily carry me it's got me giggling and kicking my feet. He's the guy I'd have a crush on in high school (more the ripped scary looking metalhead vibe than the football part). He's autistic and I'm autistic and unfortunately, we would probably clash on some ends but otherwise we would both use eachother as weighted blankets

Murderface- you know, I've seen some really fucking good fanart over time and honestly some of those art pieces I could get into. He's hot as a butch chick like ladyklok, and more alternative with some more piercings and hair maintenance and that'd really do it for me. I like his passion for his hobbies and his loyalty to his friends.

Magnus- freaknasty sex in like the back of a shitbox car or something. I don't think I would be sober but neither would he, not for anything long term but bro would give head like a champ and immediately ghost me afterwards which is expected

Charles- I TOOK HIM TO MY PENTHOUSE AND I FREAKED IT!!! you guys. I-, Like- let's be so honest he'd never be interested in me and I'm totally chill with that, however this is MY insane fantasy!!! And if I walked in a room with that man, locked it and came out three hours later one of us is gonna be pregnant and it's NOT! gonna be me

Pickles: (SORRY I FORGOT HIM GUYS CHARLES OVERTOOK ANY MENTAL FUNCTIONS)- his hair was one of the main reasons I didn't watch metalocalypse sooner, the goatee with the disconnected sideburns going up to smelly white people dread locks COMBOVER??? honey pick a struggle because good God. However. His confidence is attractive, any (good) fics I've read of him make him even more attractive considering his laid back personality (hiding buckets of anxiety me too twin), his sleeper build is definitely hot but I think his drug problem make him generally poor in bed considering he has whiskey dick and coordinations out the window, and has definitely vomited during sex before so that kinda doesn't work well. I mean sober though (hahaha when? I mean like 85% aware of his surroundings) he's probably a fantastic lay when he can lock in and concentrate. But yea he's pretty solidly attractive (ESPECIALLY the fanart of young pickles I want to tear into him like a chew toy)

Abigail- yea she's hot as fuck. Like you can't hate her her eyes are sooo pretty and she pulls of that pant suit too well. She would have me barking like a dog in a Walmart if she asked nicely enough. 100000/10

Knubbler-nah, not big into his personality or looks, also his eyes do freak me out slightly

[only-one-brain-cell]

The team doesn’t fully understand Spencers daddy issues because he never told them what he went through while taking care of Diana. He never told them about the abuse, (he’ll take that secret to his grave) about the times when she forgot who he was. Sure he’s probably given them a summery of it but they don’t understand how deep his childhood trama is.

That plus the bullying (which everyone kinda blew off anyways *insert that scene from Elephants memory here*) also L.D.S.K “Hotch I was a 12 year old prodigy in a Las Vegas public high school… you kick like a nine year old girl.” Which insinuates Spencer got beat up in school and it was never talked about again.

He was dealing with ALLL of this by himself because he couldn’t talk to his mom about it, so logically you would go to another parent but in Spencer’s case William Reid decided to peace the fuck out and not even take Spencer with him, or give a half assed reason why he can’t take Spencer.

When Rossi and Derek followed Spencer to Vegas in Memoriam they were so confused why Spencer was so hostile towards his dad. I bet they didn’t expect Spencer to be happy to see his dad but the level of bitchiness Spencer displayed towards Willam probably confused Derek and Rossi (framing Willam for murder aside) because Spencer never told any of them the full story, they assumed it was a average “oh my dad left” story which still is incredibly selfish but in Spencer’s case takes it to a while other level.

Fuck Willam Reid for leaving his CHILD to care for his mentality ill wife.

[jazzyblusnowflake]

mini update yay-

so lets see, ill start off apologizing for being dead- exam season is around the corner and the only good thing about that will be that i will no longer have to teach or design papers- so i can probably draw a bit again, hopefully at least- so i WILL get back to the requests yall have sent me i promise uwu💕

tho bad news comes in the form of my school principles and viceprinciples bullying me because im a newbie, saying im not good at my job and putting their shortcomings as my fault because who wouldnt like to blame someone else for something they werent able to do- and i feel like the abuse im taking in this toxic environment is convincing me slowly to quit my job and start risking less stable jobs even if it means being my daddies little house girl again for a while. 🙄 at the very least even if im leaching off my parents i still actually HAVE somewhat decent parents and thats not something alot of people could say and im greatful for that.

the audacity was well shown when the principle went on the teachers meeting and was like "some of the teachers here who i will not name dont know how to do their job-" and then told me that i only got my job cuz my dad is rich [which yeah sure my daddy studied 4 years of uni and then credited me sure mmhmm makes sense.] and honestly i feel like im surrounded by 50 year old toddlers-

overall, learning to adult is difficult and im glad some people are helping me figure out how to put together a resume and apply for jobs and all that.... but i guess the next bad news comes in the form of us leaving for russia. i dont hate seeing other countries but having my life uprooted immediately after work ends and summer starts and selling off the car and putting stuff in boxes and yeeting ourselves via plane to live somewhere else for the next 4 years in pure isolation is not something my mental health is gonna be haha about. esp since im gonna have to talk to my therapist and doctor to give me enough meds for me to be able to search for another doctor while im there to give me similar treatment. ughhhhhhh.

overall i feel like i have reached a lovely level of ✨️no longer giving a shit about existance✨️ and thanks to some friends i was convinced juuuuust enough to reconsider ending myself :) in my defense, google was getting annoying for only bringing up hotlines =_=

my eyes cant see well anymore due to constant crying and emotional numbness has taken over me, so i apologize if i may seem out of it or a lil blunt at times when im talking lol i no longer have the energy to PRETEND and hold a mask to seem SOCIALLY appropriate and in this last month of school im gonna be making it everyone elses problem at school.

but other than that im looking forward for school ending so i could just sleep for a while without waking up BEFORE my alarms at 5am.

ok lets see what else uhh... my bday is on 19th and i pray to lord nobody makes a surprise party for me here, the anxiety of being in crowds is already kicking me in the ass im not ready to pretend to have a social battery ugh.

okay thats it mostly, i think.

i actually made this update MINI get it? :D

...ill show myself out...

[firecrackerhh]

I got tagged to look at this but I blocked this particular person forever ago so I didn’t see it in my mentions at first but I love sharing my opinions on retarded bullshit.

It is not that Stolas doesn’t care for Octavia at all, it’s more so he’s…easily distracted.

The whole ‘plan’ he came up with sounded like he was coming up with excuses on the fly in desperation to keep Blitz alive. Especially during that part where he went “Fuck it! I am the mastermind!” When you’re in that state of mind, you are going to have fucking tunnel vision, Stolas wasn’t fucking intentionally forgetting about Octavia.

These people act like Stolas is so fucking malicious when it’s beyond obvious to anyone with any actual critical thinking skills that Stolas has done NOTHING but sacrifice his own happiness for others, the trial is just more confirmation of that fact.

Yes, what he’s done in mastermind is certainly selfish, it sucks he didn’t think about Via and how she would react, but every other time we see them together he always eventually comes around and realizes he fucked up! I’m betting that’s how the next episode will play out. I’m so fucking tired of these fucking retards always assuming the fucking worst out of every fucking character all because these fucking shitheads are incapable of understanding how character arcs work and just assume bad intent on a character’s part because of…god I don’t even know the answer to that. I wish I fucking did.

Honestly, if these fucking animals are that fucking mentally retarded that they don’t see how obvious it is that Stolas isn’t a shitty person, if they deliberately keep choosing to put the villains in good faith while shitting all over the characters we are supposed to fucking root for, if they so heavily disagree with the narrative that Vivziepop is so obviously writing out for us, if they’re that fucking delusional…

I dunno man. I dunno. No getting through to these empty headed ingrates. They’re living in a seperate reality. I just…fucking hell, what else do I say here?

These people just don’t accept the premises of the show. They don’t agree with the narrative so they make up their own and act like Viv is wrong for not writing it the way they want. like these people are so fucking retarded, I don’t know how people like this function.

Also the person who made this post is one of those shitty ‘Christian’ trans/homophobic types, so yknow, that’s not surprising at all. Bet God feels real proud to have someone like that using His name to spread bigotry, disgusting.

I wish I could study these people like rats, put them in a maze and see how long it takes for them to reach the exit kinda shit, these people obviously have some kind of mental impairment, like Christ, if your reading comprehension is that fucking bad, I don’t know how the fuck you graduated elementary school.

Seeing shit like this really makes me think this country is doomed.

“Media comprehension isn’t at an all time low!” I’ve heard it said by people who clearly have no media comprehension themselves. Go through my fucking werebitch tag, see the degree of mental illness and retardation and lack of media literacy I bear witness to and fucking explain to me how fucking maggots like this aren’t a symptom of a bigger fucking problem. I’ll fucking wait.

This may surprise some folks, but I don’t like thinking I’m smarter than other people, in real life I am the dumbest bitch alive who can barely do Jack shit on my own thanks to a near crippling degree of lack of self esteem and social anxiety but hoo BOY, do ‘people’ like shown above make me feel a thousand times smarter in comparison. Jesus Christ give me strength…and maybe give shitty so called Christian’s a kick in the ass while you’re at it.

You think if someone threw a rock at this idiot’s obviously empty head the sound would reverberate throughout their skull similar to a bell’s chime? Would it be a low pitch or a high one? Hmm.

🧨🔥~Firecracker out~🔥🧨

[themysteriousstarnger]

Heavy suicidal TWI.

Trust me I know that better than anyone else.

Yet at this point I honestly look away from this knowledge.

I have nothing good in my life.

I live in a place where I constantly run the risk of getting kicked out of.

Ever since I finished school I've been jumping from job to job because I can't keep one job longer than six months. I'm tired all the time, everything overwhelms me. I'm constantly broke and can only afford the bare minimum. All of my best friends only think of me as their casual friend. My trauma ruined me so much that I cannot hold up a healthy relationship let alone live my life without any inconvenience.

I am addicted to multiple substances.

The only good thing I had so far was my love even.

And I'm not being dramatic or some shit like that.

I'm being dead ass serious.

My life has just been a hell rise and ever since 2021 it's just gotten worse every fucking year.

I have nothing important.

No good skills

No good hobbies

No nothing.

And it looks like I will be doomed to always be dependent on someone's help. Wether that be government or parents or friends. I will never be able to hold me by myself up. No matter if that's financially or mentally or what the fuck ever.

The only thing that made it bearable was my god damn boyfriend. And even that I fucked up because I am still to deep into my trauma and my fucking mental illnesses. I'm a god damn bomb that is every second close to explode for no fucking reasons and hurt the ones I love.

I seriously, and I mean it, I seriously do not have a fucking reason to live without my boyfriend.

I know this shit can be fixed with medication or therapy but that takes YEARS

I don't want years I want it now. Why do I have to lose the best thing I had only because years haven't passed between me and my trauma.

I'm tired of this and I'm tired of everything.

Say what you want. But I seriously will not be here anymore if I lose him.

Goodnight.

[altereggs]

(  yandeh sallah.  cis-woman.  she/her.  )  did  you  hear  ?  FATIMA "TIMA" BAH  is  stuck  in  stonehaven  for  the  for  the  foreseeable  future  …  they've  lived  here  for  TWENTY-THREE YEARS  and  are  known  around  town  as  THE  ICE QUEEN,  though  back  in  high  school  they  were  better  known  for  being  voted  MOST LIKELY TO WIN A STARING CONTEST.  if  i'm  not  mistaken,  they’re  a  TWENTY-THREE  year  old  senior  studying  THEATRE ARTS  (  i  really  hope  that  translates  well  into  their  role  as  a/an  DEFENSE  in  the  ‘new  world'  ).  according  to  my  records  they  were  originally  on  the  trip  because  she wanted to genuinely volunteer but also see her older brother—  which  checks  out,  given  they’re  WELL-ROUNDED,  STERN  and  NARROW-MINDED.  if  you’re  ever  trying  to  find  them,  your  best  bet  is  to  start  at  neon cactus saloon  and  listen  for  someone  humming  pacer  by  doechii.  oh,  and  don’t  forget  to  try  calling  out  tima  or  picturing  the principal's office,  a soft yet commanding tone, eco-friendly fur, a daddy's girl, and the battle between girlhood and godhood. for  extra  help.  let's  hope  the  chaos  doesn't  get  to  them  … 

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿════✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿════✿══╡°˖✧

THE BASICS.

FULL NAME ; FATIMA "TIMA" BAH.

NICKNAME ; TIMA.

BIRTHDAY ; AUGUST 31ST. SEXUALITY ; BISEXUAL. ETHNICITY ; BLACK AND GAMBIAN.

FAMILY TREE ; (MOTHER) GISELLE. (FATHER) SAIKOU. (OLDER BROTHER #1) LAMIN. (OLDER BROTHER #2) OMAR.

THE ORIGIN STORY.

Tima was born and raised in Stonehaven by a Black mother and West-African father, along with her two older brothers.

Tima's mother was a prominent figure in the community, her family had a long lineage of being Stonehaven residents and providing for the long time residents and new coming residents as apart of the town hall.

It was obvious when growing up, that Tima’s mother was essentially the bread winner while her father had taken the prominent role of taking all three children outside the house and pushing them and strengthening their relationship within the outdoor nature as well as involving them in physical activities like with Brazilian Jiu-Jistu, for example. All this from a young age.

It wasn’t like she was the only feminine presence in the household, but with her mother always having meetings with the town hall, Tima had to always spend time within the male presence that surrounded her, which essentially made her closer and used to her father’s presence rather than her mother’s.

So Tima was getting down with her brothers, play fighting them— kicking their ass, really.

She would always win petty arguments and have her father on her side, every time while her mother had her brothers.

Her mother wasn’t as affectionate as her father was, which played into the way she grew up with her emotions.

But with the expectations of their parents, it’s usually the older sibling who the youngest sibling has to look up to. But in Tima’s case, she had to be the one to carry her family within her come up in her education and outside of her education.

Tima’s older brothers did not amount to what their parents wanted of them.

Giving up on the two oldest, Tima’s parents seemingly prioritized her and saw her older brothers as lost causes through their actions. They didn’t even see themselves going to college, having a career, at least not an ideal one to them.

TW MENTION OF DRUGS AND MENTAL ILLNESS Her older brother, Lamin moved out of Stonehaven while her other older brother, Omar was making wrong life decisions like the circle he associated himself with. Getting wrapped up into drugs, leading to his homelessness and diagnosis with schizophrenia, all while Tima is at college but unbeknownst to her parents, switching her major from psychology to theatre arts.

Though, despite the strain relationship her brothers have with the family, she didn’t cut times with them. Omar ends up in a shelter while she still attends college and still supports him, she’s the reason he’s in the shelter and is able to have his mental illness diagnosis.

It’s not a new revelation that Tima does community service, but this particular community service for the school trip involved her brother, and she had to secure her spot, without a doubt. But she has now secured her spot in a new world that differs from her old one, still very much finding herself resorting to ways she would in the past even when it’s not needed, like for her need to be in control.

THE HEAD CANONS.

true crime watcher/ horror girly.

can deal with every other season except for the summer.

a fighter not a lover.

was that one teacher pet who was not down with the games bcz her education was more important.

obviously seems like a debby downer but with the range of talents/hobbies she's got, there's nothing actually boring about her, but she doesn't care to explain herself.

advocate for a lot of things but comes off really scarily strict about it.

despite being an ice queen, yes she smiles, condescendingly...

so her mannerisms isn't heavily blank faces and staying quiet, she has a lot to say, whether anyone likes it or not.

always has to show a visual representation of her ideas if it's not getting through people's head.

majoring in theatre arts for specifically costume design.

night person all the way.

has kinda always got everything she's wanted so her factory settings are accustomed to nothing else, but just that.

musical prodigy.

doesn't like pets, especially the good ones bcz they'll make her soft.

[kimberlyannharts]

LAST TIME ON RANGER ACADEMY - Dark Specter has taken over the school! And we can't use this as an excuse for free vacation time because if he gets out he'll take over the universe or whatever. Have we seen this before?

Hope comes in the form of Zilan's anti-Dark Specter machine, but a corrupted Mathis has sabotaged it in a fun little prank. That's probably not as funny as they thought it was.

It's Ranger Academy #12!

= Another instance in how Ranger Academy handled the whole Dark Specter corruption plot than Darkest Hour - dear god I wish Aisha had gotten even a tenth of this much emotion when she saw Rocky and Adam were corrupted

= Well sounds a lot easier than going to a Zeo Crystal Planet in another dimension

= Nika's kind of hilarious btw he's only just gotten back in contact with his old friend and they're trying to save the universe from a Dark Specter takeover and he won't stop flirting with that friend who's still grieving his dead boyfriend. He's been waiting to shoot his shot for over ten years

= Rhianth legitimately looks like he got barbecued here but it's fine. He's too hot to die

= Don't get me wrong Lindy/Sage is superior but Sage/Kartyr is also good if I had to pick a het ship. Pink/Green always gets me, man

= My friends and I saw you across the bar and we're coming to kick your ass (we're all underage)

= I still can't believe THIS book gave us Dark Specter's classic design for his final stand rather than the 2016 series. With very passing day I hate the Evil Radiant Red design more and more

= Also him saying "it's allowed me to become more concentrated" kind of supports my theory that Dark Specter existing here is due to him reforming in some kind of regenerative cycle, and he's still in his "early stage"

= Sage: you think you're so evil? We all have MENTAL ILLNESS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

= That staff becoming a bow is a good twist

= also yeah yeah Dark Specter got taken out too easily whatever, it's still better than the main series

= Headmaster you truly did nothing for me ever. Nothing for anyone, really

= so as I said in my notes, I think this is supposed to answer that the face we saw in the Green tube were most likely Zilan and Tashi's spirits, but not fully-formed. I guess it was just a little confusing due to them appearing as a big head, and Sage saying "is that me??" - I feel that would have made more sense if Sage and Zilan were legitimately brother and sister and you could connect the dots that they looked alike because of that relation (they already look super similar, so why not just take that extra leap. It would also explain why Sage's parents were there and why Zilan was THAT protective of her)

= also live Sage reaction

= Unfortunately now you're gonna have to listen to Green Ranger teachers, and do you KNOW how crazy those guys are???? Ziggy one day and Riley the next. Major whiplash

= GAY PEOPLE ARE SO ANNOYINGGGGGG

= also "maybe it's time I retired!" Nika, you're like.....thirty. Actually wait, I totally understand him

= I'm kind of mourning the fact that we'll never see Nugget Zord come to pass

= But anyway, the end!!!! Goodbye, Ranger Academy. Video review to come....soon

[litlunacy]

For the "get to know me" game: #10 what's your favorite book? :)

I have two for this one! (Because who can pick just one book?)

Fiction: Paranormalcy by Kiersten White. I got it in 7th grade and have read it five times since (and finished the trilogy, but the first is still my fave) and regularly flip it open to reread the best parts. The main character, Evie, is basically a fantasy Elle Woods, in that despite being a super girly blonde girl with a pink rhinestone taser whose greatest wish is going to high school prom, she's smart and absolutely kicks ass and takes no bs her obnoxious faerie ex-bf. Also she fights vampires and other nonsense for a living and her best friend is a mermaid whose translator censors all swearing to loud beeps. 12yo me was in love (I was still in my 'I hate everything pink bc everyone says girls have to like it' phase and something about Evie and Elle being able to like pink and be badasses just stuck with me I guess).

Nonfiction: Furiously Happy by Jenny Lawson. My longtime bestie introduced me to Lawson's first book, Let's Pretend This Never Happened, and it was such a hilarious rollercoaster that I had to get the second (& 3rd). Despite also being a very funny autobiography of her rather bonkers life, the second book also digs a lot deeper into living with mental illness and how it can fuck you up and also how to find the beauty in the darkness. I reread it regularly when the depression demons come knocking hard again and it helps get me through. I honestly recommend it to anyone who suffers from anxiety/depression and needs a good laugh and to feel less alone. The part that always stuck with me most was where she talked about having a 2am panic attack in New York during a book tour, her foot bleeding everywhere from rheumatoid arthritis swelling, and she looked outside and saw snow (magical to a lifelong Texan). And went for a walk, barefoot, down the block, and wrote this:

"As I turned and looked back toward the hotel I noticed that my footprints leading out into the city were mismatched. One side was glistening, small and white. The other was misshapen from my limp and each heel was pooled with spots of bright red blood. It struck me as a metaphor for my life. One side light and magical. Always seeing the good. Lucky. The other side bloodied, stumbling. Never quite able to keep up.

It was like the Jesus-beach-footprint-in-the-sand poem, except with less Jesus and more bleeding.

It was my life, there in white and red. And I was grateful for it."

Asks here.