#tw depressive episode

[wildechildwrites]

Relax

Shinsou Hitoshi/Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Depression, self-esteem issues, mind control (not in a bad way but it's in there)

No use of Y/N, gender neutral reader

Summary: You haven't left your bed in days, too depressed to get anything done. Shinsou stops by your apartment to check on you and helps in his own way.

A/N: Wrote this because I've been too depressed to get out of bed, forgive any mistakes or ooc I didn't even really want to post it in the first place.

AO3 Link: Relax

You think you’ve hit a record for continuous hours spent in bed, and probably permanently fucked your kidneys because you don’t even have the energy to get up to use the bathroom. The floor of your room is disgusting, and dishes are piled up in the kitchen. You know you smell, and that there’s so much work for you to do, deadlines you’ve barely managed to avoid by calling in sick to the hero agency you do secretarial work at, but you can’t bring yourself to care. 

There’s a knock on your door, but you just ignore it, scrolling mindlessly through your phone. You don’t want to see anyone, and you’re not expecting to anyway. 

Whoever is at your door doesn’t stop, knocking harder and more insistently. You even hear your door knob jiggle, which spurs your anxiety on enough to get you to drag yourself out of bed. Your legs feel slightly wobbly, the inactivity of the last few days catching up to you as blood flows through your limbs. Catching your own reflection in the mirror makes you wince, but it’s a lost cause you’d rather not address. Whoever is knocking hasn’t stopped, and you yank open your front door irritably. If it’s some stupid solicitor–

Your jaw drops at the sight of one of the heroes from your agency, Shinso Hitoshi, standing outside your door. He’s dressed for patrol in all black, wrapped in his scarf, his voice modulator hanging loosely around his neck. His hair is wild as always, purple locks sticking in all directions, and he scans your form quickly, as if checking you for visible injuries. You remember how disheveled you look and your face heats up. 

“What are you doing here?” your voice is hoarse from disuse and your most recent crying jag, and you immediately wince at the way you sound, but Shinsou’s expression doesn’t change.

“I’ve come to check on you. I heard you were ill.” His tone is blandly neutral, as though it’s something that he does all the time, like you’re not just some stupid underling he’s contractually obligated to tolerate. His violet eyes narrow. “You’re not sick though.” 

You shrug self-consciously. You don’t understand why he’s here. You’re friendly at work, going out of your way to make conversation with the normally reserved hero, but you’ve never spent any real time together. You’re not sure what made him decide a house visit was in order. He definitely has more important things to do than checking up on you, and now you’re just wasting his time. You wrap your arms around yourself.

 “I just needed a day off.” You step backwards, going to shut the door. “Thanks for checking on me.” Shinsou’s foot shoots out, wedging the door open. There’s a beat as you two stare at each other, your mouth open in surprise.

“You’re not doing well,” Shinsou says, a frown on his face. He pushes your door open, and before you can protest, pro-hero MindJack has crowded into your disgusting apartment. You’re pretty sure it’s only because his poker face is so good that he doesn’t grimace at the mess, just stares at you, a crease in between his eyebrows. Humiliation burns in your chest. Now he knows you’re a gross waste of space, and he’ll probably tell everyone at work that you can’t even manage to keep your apartment clean. 

“Oh, little one,” he sighs. You pray for a black hole to spontaneously appear and swallow you up, but don’t get any such mercy. “You need tea,” he says firmly. “Tea, and then you’re going to tell me what’s making you depressed.”

Shinsou heads towards your kitchen with a strange amount of confidence for someone who’s never been in your apartment before, ignoring the dirty dishes piled in the sink in favor of the kettle.

Part of you knows you should protest, but you can't bring yourself to care, scraping the bottom of the well and coming up empty. You shove the pile of clothes strewn on your couch to the floor and sink into the cushions, your eyes on the hero in your kitchen. Maybe you’re just having a really weird dream.

All of your mugs are dirty, so Shinsou washes your favorite, plucking it out of the stack. You wonder if it's a part of his quirk to pick up on things like that. He even remembers how you take your tea, cradling the mug gently in both hands and plopping down beside you, sinking into your couch, his long legs sprawling out in front of him. Your fingers brush against his own, thin and unnaturally warm from the heat of the drink as he hands it to you. You're reminded of the last time you saw him. 

You've got two full trays of coffee balanced precariously in both hands, fighting a losing battle against flimsy cardboard and gravity. Your face is furrowed in concentration, your eyes fixed on your full hands when someone plucks the trays out of your grasp with nimble fingers. Your head shoots up, and you're about to protest when you see a pair of familiar purple eyes on yours. They’re beautiful up close, blue flecks making them seem almost periwinkle in the fluorescent office lights. Bashfulness hits you like a tsunami, and you try to tamp it down.

“Seems you've got your hands full,” Shinsou comments dryly. You smile and shrug, flustered by his proximity. 

“All in a day's work.” You bite your lip, feeling awkward. “I um, I got you one too, even though I wasn't sure if you'd be in today. You drink it black right? Dark roast?” Deftly, you pluck his out of one of the trays, then hold your other hand out expectantly. “Trade you?”

Shinsou stares at you intently, his expression unreadable. An odd shiver runs down your spine, like cold water dripping through your veins, and there’s a beat of silence before he finally responds, like he had to reboot. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs softly. He hands you one of the trays and accepts the warm cup from your hands, fingers brushing against yours. Despite your protests, Shinsou insists on helping you with your errand, trailing behind you to the meeting room you’re headed to. 

You pass out the drinks quickly, ignoring the odd stares that come with having a purple haired shadow lingering behind you, obediently holding the tray as though it’s the most important part of his day. 

Shinsou doesn’t speak until you're both out in the hallway. 

“You didn't get yourself anything.” There's a slight crease in between his eyes. It's adorable, the singular sign of concern in his placid expression. You’d like to reach out and smooth it out with your thumb. 

“They ran out of the tea I like,” you say, trying and failing to not sound like you’re pouting. Shinsou hums in acknowledgement. He’s suddenly distracted, his mind obviously elsewhere as he shoots you a vague goodbye before abruptly turning on his heel and heading in the opposite direction. You smile to yourself. Sometimes the heroes were so odd.

After your lunch break, a cup of tea appears on your desk. You don’t see Shinsou again, but you can’t keep the smile off your face for the rest of the day.  

You’ve sat in silence for at least twenty minutes, unsure of what to say. You wish Shinsou would just leave, but you’re not brave enough to say so. You just want to be left alone. The idea of talking about your pathetic problems with someone who has real responsibilities is mortifying. Shinsou seems content to remain unnervingly quiet beside you, relaxing on your secondhand couch.

“I’m not even sad, really. I’m just bad at being a person,” you finally say. “I fuck up everything and I'm going nowhere.” Your head thunks back against the couch cushions. Shinsou is staring at you, and you wish you could just disappear, but the floodgates have been opened, everything that’s been weighing you down spilling out.

 “It’s so exhausting to even just be alive. I feel so overwhelmed and stressed constantly about the most miniscule things. I wish someone would tell me what to do because I seem to be incapable of making decisions, even with little things like what to eat and how to organize my closet. Every choice I make is the wrong one.”  You sniffle, desperately fighting back the threat of tears. 

There’s a quick change in the placid expression on Shinsou’s face, a ripple in the still waters of a pond. 

“I could help.” His voice is hesitant but his gaze is sharp, lilac eyes pinning you down. You run a hand through your greasy hair absentmindedly, confused.

 “How?”

He stares at you with a deadpan expression until you realize what he’s implying. Duh. 

“I could… make some decisions for you. Help you be productive.”

You've never seen a mind altering quirk in action. Your curiosity sparks, and you push yourself to sit up.

“Can you just tell me to… not? Be depressed?” you ask.

Shinsou tilts his head, a small frown on his face. “It doesn’t work like that, unfortunately. But I might be able to make you feel better. At least temporarily.”

The silence while you mull over his offer is tense. You don't want him to use his powers superfluously. You're not sure if his quirk has limitations, but you don't want to exhaust it for a stupid reason like this. 

“I can't ask you to do that.” You say.

“You're not asking,” he replies firmly. “I'm offering because I want to help. It'll–” he hesitates, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I've heard that it's not bad, the sensation of it.”

You stare at him, absentmindedly chewing on your lip. Nothing can make you feel worse than you do right now, you reason. Maybe you can get him to make you clean. Or fill out bills. 

“How do we start?”

Shinsou looks surprised, then pleased, his eyes warm. He shifts closer to you, and you catch the scent of cologne, light and clean. Your heart gives an odd stutter.

“Are you going to be good for me?” His voice is barely a whisper. Heat rises to your face at the question, warmth kindling low in your stomach. You ignore your own reaction, focusing on his question.

“Yes Shinsou,” you reply. His mouth curves up, his demeanor changing instantly, slipping on intensity like a glove. A long arm drapes across the back of your sofa, boxing you in, closing the gap between you. He's bigger than you realized, so close like this, wiry muscle covering his slim form. His eyes are dark and deeper than you've ever seen them, like a twilight sky. You can't look away, a rabbit caught in the hypnotic gaze of a snake.

“Relax,” he orders, his voice silky smooth but impossibly firm. The words have an immediate effect, melting into you, tugging at your brainstem. A shiver runs down your spine, and you feel the tension in your body unfurl, like you’re slipping into a warm bath.

There’s a part of you that’s panicking, a jerk of animal instinct that fights against the downy sensation that’s settling into your mind. You try to quiet the protest. You want to be good for Shinsou, want him to think that you're good. He sees the conflict in your expression and leans impossibly closer, a gentle hand reaching up to tip your chin towards him. Your eyes drop down to his mouth, and his breath catches.

“You’re doing so well,” he says quietly. “I know it’s uncomfortable, but I’d never hurt you.” He cocks his head, voice slipping back into a more authoritarian tone. “Now, go take a shower and brush your teeth.” 

The words have an instant effect on you, pulling an invisible string. You jerk to your feet, unsteadily beelining towards the bathroom, his little marionette doll. Shinsou rises as well, heading towards your bedroom. 

The first time you meet Shinsou is in one of the many break rooms of the agency you work at. He strolls in, and you have to make a concentrated effort from keeping your jaw from dropping. He's tall and handsome, his surprisingly delicate features thrown off by the dark circles under his eyes. The coffee you're pouring overflows onto your hand in your distraction, and you curse quietly under your breath, spinning around to grab some paper towel to clean your mess. 

“Careful, the coffee's hot,” a dry voice speaks from behind you. It's low in an unexpected way, appealing despite his lack of inflection. You let out a scoff at his comment. You go over a mental list of the heroes at your agency, trying to pinpoint who he is.

“You're MindJack, right?” you finally ask, turning back to face him, your curiosity getting the best of you. He looks surprised. 

“You know who I am?” 

“Yeah, I guess. I’ve seen what you can do, read your file and stuff.” You're desperately trying to come off as nonchalant, throwing your shoulders up in an exaggerated shrug. Hopefully he doesn’t think you’re a stalker or anything. You clear your throat. “You’ve got a pretty interesting quirk.” 

“Interesting is a kind way to put it, I believe.” His tone is light, but there’s an edge to it. You read the sudden tension in his shoulders, the way his lips thin. “Most people think it’s a villainous quirk to have.” 

You roll your eyes. Morons. 

“People are just shitty about it because they’d probably be evil if they had your power,” You say, trying to sound matter of fact. “If anything, it just proves you’re a better hero, you resisted the pull because you’ve got strong morals.”

 You smile at him, and he returns it, a quick crescent moon flash of teeth that has you ducking your head.

“I guess I’ve never thought of it that way,” he murmurs thoughtfully.

Shinsou found your stash of clean sheets and is making your bed when you walk into your bedroom after your shower, squeaky clean and wrapped in a towel. He turns to you, and you see his cheeks go pink, his eyes trailing down your form before shooting back up to your face with a guilty expression. Shame rushes through you, disturbing the detached serenity you feel. You should've told him you needed to change, instead of barging in practically naked. He's being so nice, and you’re ruining things like always. You can feel the corners of your mouth turning down, anxiety fighting against the artificial calm Shinsou has coached your mind into.

He clicks his tongue, matching your frown with one of his own. “I’m sorry, I lost focus. You’re alright, relax for me.”

It’s an odd sensation, a roller coaster drop and then you’re back to tranquility. He smiles at you with that half crescent flash of teeth. Your knees feel weak. 

“I’ll go start the dishes while you put on some fresh clothes and start some laundry. Sounds good?”

The sun's dipping low in the sky, the shadows growing long as you and Shinsou fold the mounds of laundry you've finished. Time feels strange, chores that normally take hours slipping by in moments, the sound of Shinsou's voice filling the silence and echoing in your head. He tells you about becoming a hero, about training and about work. You like the way his voice sounds, the lack of inflection giving way to little tells, peaks and valleys in his speech pattern that you’ve never picked up on before.

He's propped himself against your bed, making quick work of the pile of socks he’s folding, a crease appearing between his eyebrows as he concentrates. You're struck with the soft domesticity of it all, the compassion of Shinsou taking so much time to help try to pull you out of the hole you’ve found yourself in. Gratitude overwhelms you, your chest tight with it. 

You don't realize there are tears running down your cheeks until Shinsou looks up at you, and lets out a soft gasp, abandoning the pile of socks.

“Are you alright?” he asks, concern lacing his tone. “Did I push you too much today? Did we do anything you didn’t want?” He’s so close to you, hands hovering hesitant around your face, desperate to comfort but afraid to close the gap. You shoot him a watery smile, wiping your eyes before you pull him into a tight hug. He freezes at the contact, a heartbeat of surprise before melting against you, long arms wrapping around your body.

“You're just so nice,” you say, voice muffled against his chest. You feel his lips brush against the top of your head softly. You don't feel better, necessarily, the empty hole in your chest still present, but you feel less heavy. Your apartment looks great, and your to do list is down to an almost manageable level. He’s done so much more for you than you can express, so you just hug him tighter, burying your face into his neck. 

You want to stay like this forever, huddled on your bedroom floor, cradled in each other’s arms. The warmth of the moment is shattered by the ring of his phone. 

Being a hero is a ceaseless calling. He answers, and you try to convince yourself that the curt note in his voice is disappointment at the interruption. You pull back and pretend not to eavesdrop, schooling your face into a neutral expression for when he hangs up, regret coloring his features.

“I have to go,” he says, and you muster a smile.

“I’ll walk you out.” 

MindJack stands in your doorway for the second time tonight, lingering in the warmth of your apartment. You’re back to feeling stressed, hyper aware of the vulnerability he’s seen today. You hope he doesn’t say anything to anyone. You hope he still likes you after all of this. His next sentence catches you completely off guard, your own self doubt totally off base. 

“I'll stop by to pick you up for work tomorrow morning,” he says, his voice almost casual. There's a soft pink to his cheeks, and you feel an answering heat rise to your own. “Unless you’re planning on calling in sick again.” 

“You really don’t have to do that.” You feel like you’ve put him out enough tonight already.

“I’d like to.” Those purple eyes have you pinned again, and you feel yourself nodding without thinking. Before you can blink, he leans into your space, wrapping a long arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him and pressing his lips to yours in a fierce kiss. His mouth is warm and soft. He nips at your bottom lip and you quietly gasp. He takes advantage, deepening the kiss, pulling you impossibly closer, his tongue sweeping against yours. You reach your hands up, weaving your fingers through his hair, and he lets out an appreciative groan when you tug him closer. His phone buzzes again and he pulls away.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he says breathlessly. You don’t know how to tell him what a difference he’s made for you. You’ve got so much you’d like to say to him, but you know he has to go. He’s stayed longer than he should already.

“Thank you,” you say simply. You hope he understands the true weight of your appreciation. You gaze tenderly at each other for a moment before he reaches a hand out, fingers ghosting against your cheek, then slips out of your apartment.

[dewedup]

scars inside you (swiss ghoul)

His body would feel exhausted, unable to manage the strength to make it out of bed. He would feign an illness, though ghouls rarely get sick, let alone to the extent of being immobile.

It was a process with an unknown duration. There were times when he was down for a week, and other times he would bounce back within a day. It didn’t matter what anyone did, though he appreciated each and every single one of his ghouls with his entire being for trying.

or

I am having a rough day and I headcanon Swiss as being slightly bipolar, he gives off such high energy I just picture the lows being extremely rough. This is one of those times.

words: 1,089

under the cut but can also be read on AO3 HERE

everyone gets low sometimes, but it gets better

if you're struggling, this might not be the thing for you, mentions of feeling unwanted, like a burden or inconvenience and a depressive episode

TW: DEPRESSION

It wasn't often that Swiss felt off, like a black cloud of doubt was hovering over him. He usually overcompensated for those nagging feelings by being more boisterous than usual, grinning hard enough it hurt, blurting out the most ridiculous things he could off the top of his head to make his pack laugh. Faking his way through the day, he would wake up feeling normal.

Some days, though, it was hard to even do that.

His body would feel exhausted, unable to manage the strength to make it out of bed. He would feign an illness, though ghouls rarely get sick, let alone to the extent of being immobile. His pack would check on him, popping in throughout the day, seeing if he needed anything or just wanted someone around. He’d deny it all, wanting desperately to take the worry out of their expressions, but couldn’t even try to hold himself together enough to be in the presence of another person.

Sometimes he’d cry, full-body sobs into his pillow, or just tears streaming down his face as he silently stared at the ceiling.

His mind would fall into a spiral, a highlight reel of every moment he’d ever felt sad, worthless, unwanted or like a burden. He’d relive every terrible moment, punishing himself for being so weak. His room would fill with a rotten smell, like milk gone bad, sour, a foul scent clogging his nostrils.

He’d finally exhaust himself of feelings, mentally, physically, and emotionally drained, falling into a restless slumber.

He’d wake up feeling exponentially worse. Like he was stuck in a time loop that just got progressively more depressed. Days he’d wallow, stuck in the same clothes, his skin starting to stink with sweat and sadness. The concern of the pack would get almost tangible. He could taste it in the air, it only served to make him feel like more of an inconvenience.

He wishes he knew what he needed to break the cycle, when Dew would kneel beside his bed and beg him for a solution. He’d stare blankly in return, seeing the expression crumble from Dew’s face and his entire body slump like he was the one disappointing him.

Cumulus would knock lightly on his door, quietly announcing her presence without waiting for an invitation. She’d leave the door open for a minute, using her air magick to pull some fresh air into the dark room. She’d even bring in a candle of his favourite scent from her secret stash, placing it on the dresser and lighting it. She’d stop by his bed, sit beside his head and pet his hair for a while, softly running her fingers through the greasy strands. She’d whisper words of affirmation, that he was good, he was loved, and to take all the time he needed. She would then place a soft kiss between his horns and leave him to his thoughts.

What felt like hours of watching the flame from the candle flicker, Mountain would come to visit, a plant from his greenhouse in hand. He’d make it a nice home on his bedside table, replacing the one from the last episode without scolding Swiss for its poor condition. He’d crack the blinds slightly, just enough to shine a tiny bit of sunlight on the new life. He’d crouch near Swiss and relay some of the drama he’d been privy to. For such a tall ghoul, people seemed to overlook his presence frequently, making Mountain the best source of news within the abbey. He wishes he had the strength to laugh at the mishap of a new sibling of sin, involving some inappropriate usage of the confessional, but Mountain doesn’t take offence to the lack of reaction. He’d finish his story and grab Swiss by the hand, placing a kiss along his knuckles and letting him know he’d fill him in on any updates before taking his leave.

It was only a matter of time before the sun Mountain let in went down, leaving the room in its darkened state. Rain and Dew would enter together, Dew relighting the candle Mount had extinguished on his way out of the room. Dew had the hardest time of them all when Swiss got like this, feeling helpless against his friend’s own head. Nevertheless, he still came over, lifting the blanket to blow some hot air into Swiss' cocoon, running his fingers over Swiss' grown-out stubble, before resolutely walking out of the room. Rain would stay longer, depositing some easy-to-eat food on his bedside table and curling up beside him. He’d hum softly in Ghoulish as he held him close, dusting kisses over his cheeks and forehead as he was just there. And if Swiss let out a tear or two, he’d say nothing, kissing them away and humming a little louder so that his chest would send vibrations through the multi ghoul.

Swiss would wake up to an empty bed, the water ghoul’s warmth still lingering along with his scent. If he looked over, he would see the plant beside his bed freshly watered.

Phantom would come in the early morning hours, sleep still heavy in his face as he dropped into the bed beside Swiss. He’d worm his way under the covers and attach himself to Swiss’ back, letting off soft waves of quintessence magick until he was fast asleep, soft snores falling against Swiss’ neck.

It was a process with an unknown duration. There were times when he was down for a week, and other times he would bounce back within a day. It didn’t matter what anyone did, though he appreciated each and every single one of his ghouls with his entire being for trying.

He’d wake up one morning, the feeling of dread still lingering slightly but he could breathe.

A shower would have him feeling cleaner, like he was washing off the depressive episode with water and soap, watching it all swirl down the drain. Everyone would look up from their breakfast, eyes shining happily as he took a seat at the table.

No words needed to be said. 

Aurora would place a bowl of his favourite cereal before him with a kind smile, her hand squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. Cirrus would inhale her breakfast like a wild animal, quickly taking her leave and flying down the hallway to the dorms. She’d disappear for quite some time, but when Swiss retired for the night his entire room would be clean, curtains pulled wide open and fresh sheets for him to fall into.

[med-anon-z]

Mmph. Been there. Often. Sucks, feeling helpless like this.

No one single person caused everything. So it makes sense that no one single person can fix everything. Best thing we can do sometimes is figure out how to be good back up. ...Or just not be in the way, unfortunately. Had one of those recently...

@suddenlyauntiemaya

I know, but... I know it's bad practice to compare your sorrows against another's, but even compared to you, I don't feel like I can do anything.

Even if you can't do much, you at least have connections. You can help others because you know them, and that lets you help.

I just... Don't have that. I'm a stranger to most of these people, and that just makes me feel even worse. All I can do is watch, and I'm sick and tired of it.

Again. I know it's bad practice to do what I just did. But I just can't help but feel like an extra in my own life with everything that's happening around me.

[ikamigami]

There's one thing that I didn't lke in today's laes episode.. and it's the fact that they pointed out that Daycare is dirty.. again..

Recently they seem to often throw that info here and there..

But no one complained about dirty Daycare that much beside Sun before..

And now it's everyone who complain about it..

It looks like Sun isn't cleaning the Daycare that much.. it seems he's doing it rarely.. he was only complaining that it's dirty but he doesn't seem to be motivated to clean..

He even gave Lunar barrel to clean not so long ago..

He keeps to be more focused on barrels still and on donut.. but he seems to rarely clean Daycare..

The only place he cleaned was a bit of his house.. though it seems that he doesn't want to do that anymore either.. and theater.. he cleaned theater when he found out from Eclipse that Solar will be back..

It's sweet that despite Solar not being too close to Sun, Sun still cares about Solar's comfort and wants him to return to clean place.. cause Solar main place is theater..

But I'm worried about Sun.. cause it seems that he lost motivation even to clean.. and cleaning was always Sun's thing and Sun was still cleaning even when he was depressed back before he had psychotic episode last year..

He only spends time doing mindless activities - watching anime, listening to music and maybe a bit of reading..

And he seems to be in pretty low mood..

I think that he has depressive episode.. which considering that he has depressive psychosis may end up with another psychotic episode..

But this time it seems worse than last year cause he doesn't have even motivation to clean..

Others don't seem to pick up on that fact that Sun doesn't want to clean that much if not at all..

I'm worried..

[im-secretly-a-frog]

Okay guys, this is a bit of a morr serious post.

About two weeks ago my partner and I broke up. If you've noticed that I've been posting less, then yeah, this is why. It was a shitty breakup and I still feel completely shitty about it. I lost one of the big supports in my life and my depression has only gotten worse after the breakup. I'm trying to manage it but as I no longer have a therapist I can talk to it has been really hard.

I'm going to put up a similar post on my poetry blog (@sapphos-roommate) because it has profoundly effected my poetry.

But yeah, I've been really struggling this past month, and I just wanted you guys to know. It was really hard for me to make this post because I hate feeling so vulnerable, but I know it will make me feel better in the long run.

[industriallyinsecure]

Late night calls

(tw: depressive episodes)

Your shaky hand reaches out and fumbles around your nightstand before retrieving your phone. Pulling it under the covers with you, you dial your boyfriend’s number.

He answers with a soft grunt, his words mumbled and slurred to the point of incomprehension. Or maybe he was speaking Sicilian, either way you didn’t understand.

“Rizzo?” You all but whimper, clutching the blanket around you tighter, “Could you come over?”

He yawns, “Is everything alright?”

“I’m okay, I just,” you swallow back a sob, “need to be around someone else right now.”

Risotto hums. There’s some shuffling on his end.

“Give me about ten minutes,” he mumbles.

~

It only took nine. He let himself in like he always did. Through the thin walls of your apartment you could hear him taking his shoes off and placing his keys on the counter.

The door to your bedroom creaks open, revealing the huge hulking figure of Risotto Nero. You peek out from under the duvet. Risotto yawns.

“Do you want tea or anything?” He asks, blinking slowly and rubbing his eyes.

You hold your arms out to him and he understands immediately. Risotto lumbers over and crawls into bed with you, kicking off his pants and discarding his shirt on the floor. He slips under the covers and pulls you close to him. One of his coworkers had joked that you fit together like puzzle pieces, and to a certain extent it was true. His hips and chest always pressed snugly against your backside, arms wrapped around your waist and head resting against yours.

This time, you were curled into his chest, his chin resting on the crown of your head.

“What’s the matter?” He mumbled into your scalp. You shook your head, gripping his arms.

“I don’t really know.”

Risotto hummed.

“I just need you to be here with me”

“Well, I’m here now,” he murmured, pulling to closer, “and I’m not going anywhere.”

Risotto hardly ever spoke, but he always chose his words carefully and made sure he wasn’t misunderstood. And though you knew he never said anything without meaning it, some bitter part wanted to think he was lying. The facts disputed it, because who would answer a call at four in the morning and head over to comfort their significant other but not care about them? You knew Risotto loved you, and that he would tear the world apart just for you, but you still felt as if his words were empty.

You couldn’t face him. Wiggling around in his arms, you turned the other way. How ungrateful. Why were you so ungrateful? Why didn’t you believe him?

He nuzzled the nape of your neck, “I’ve got you.”

Was it because you had been left so many times before? By people who claimed to love you, yet abandoned you when they found a shiny new person to focus all of their attention on?

“Go back to sleep.”

Were you not enough? Would you ever be enough?

Why would he want to be with you? Why was he still with you in the first place?

His hands drifted up to your shoulders, rubbing his thumbs in small circles.

“Hey,” He shook your shoulder, “ look at me.”

Although every atom in your body screamed to not listen to him, you turned back over to face him. His pretty white hair glistened in the soft moonlight that peeked through your curtains. You couldn’t see his face, but you could tell he was frowning. The exhales from his nose tickled your face. A warm hand came up to wipe away tears you didn’t know were there.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” You sucked in a shaky breath. His hand lingered on your cheek for a moment before he took it away to pet your head.

“I wish you could see yourself how I do, could make you love yourself as much as I love you.” He sighed, “But that won’t happen anytime soon.” A brief pause. He clears his throat and presses a chaste kiss to your forehead. “I don’t know what your brain is telling you, but don’t listen to it,” another gentle kiss, “and try to get some sleep.” You curled into his chest, pressing your wet cheeks into the soft skin.

“I love you.”

His arms circled around you, surrounding you with warmth and comfort, “I love you too.”

[m1nyard0]

staving off a depressive episode by rereading the kings men! surely this can’t go wrong.!!! surely!!!

[cannibalsamruby]

I’m trying to get my mind off my depressive episode, or am I manic now? Wtf is happening to my mood?

[insomniaccipher]

EDIT (24/3): so um, I posted this way way too early. In my sleep deprived state I guess I posted it rather than save it as a draft, since it's clearly not done. I'm not going to private it, people have already seen it so expect this to be updated with the remaining notes. Sorry and thank you for understanding!

(tw for mention of depression and a depressive episode)

After a few days of me being absolutely fucking drained and progressively chipping away at this, and having a surprise d3pr3ssiv3 episode

(seriously though, don't do what I did and work yourself into a depressive episode. I'm okay now, but I should have rested before I crashed.)

And I can finally present the original sketches, notes (internal dialogue included) and with additional notes provided by present me.

Thank you to the few people who showed interest in my little character for being patient with me, I know I wasn't super loyal with the time frame and kept having issues arise but here it is. I apologise for not having a full illustration of them, It's one of those things that I have to be 100 percent satisfied with and right now, it's not there.

Thank you so so much again and I hope you like them, please feel free to critique them or ask questions but try to keep it polite please. Love you all!

Page 1 (left) - Bits and bobs

- Originally I was thinking of giving Arc moving tattoos. This was because I wanted them to have a more clear connection to ink since they would already be around it quite a lot also I imagine it would have been funny for Arc, who is a very calm and collected person, to be in a frustrating situation but can't express it so their tattoos just fucking loose it showing that they are fucking fuming but looks calm as can be.

After I decided on the hat with a veil however I decided to scrap the idea, or at least save it for a different character, as I realized the character would feel too busy and between the two ideas I liked the hat and veil more.

- There was a short-lived idea of them having blackout tattoos but after a bit of research I decided not to ask I wasn't sure if they had any cultural significance, so better safe than sorry.

- Arc, as stated in the notes, is seemingly always calm. That doesn't mean they can't feel frustrated, sad, embarrassed it just means they can keep their composure and level headed. They're like one of those people that if you upset them they'll walk out the room yell and throw shit and walk back in calm as can be.

- Their role has by now developed more than just being an archivist, as now I see them as just a general records keeper. They find and keep old records and text organised, while also writing down new information and such. I'm not changing their name though, cause honestly I've just grown attached to their nickname.

Page 2 (right) - the first note and ideas

- Weirdly enough, the very first idea I had for this character wasn't their story or personality: but their hat and veil. Yup. I just liked the idea of a character with a big halo hat and a veil hiding their face.

- There was another character at one point or they might have been the same, I don't exactly remember and the details between them were similar enough that it's possible that they were just the same character just with minor tweaks. But that character was more connected to the band (again as in the personas/characters they play, not the irl people) while Arc is more of a solo unit.

Mentioning this other character is relevant because, and this is purely based on memory, I think the whole reason they were reworked/scrapped/whatever-the-fuck I did with them was because a hat and veil wouldn't be practical on stage.

- Anyway whenever they do take the veil off, either for more delicate work or they have to be in public, they'll put on a basic mask that covers the majority of their lower face.

- A lot of stuff I see, so forgive me if it's not actually a popular concept, seems to make the band members some form of inhuman. Which I fucking love, however to be honest the inhuman stuff was always kind of going to be part of them no matter what, even if I hadn't chosen the hat and veil concept (See top bullet point for the moving tattoos concept).

[goodgollymissmeli]

i drew this ages ago, but it pretty well encapsulates how i’ve been feeling

[curiositybeckettcomic]

38: Black Mood

In which Jannek needs a mental health day.

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[honeysucklethornsandalligtrhorns]

TW: depressive episodes, mentions of self harm and suicide

yall are LUCKY i was not on this app during 2021. im having a little bit of a depressive episode rn and its only a TASTE of the shit i went through back then. now very very proud of myself for never committing self harm or suicide because wow. i know i've felt worse than this but this is BAD

[arwenkenobi48]

Life Update

Trigger warning: Depression and suicidal thoughts

Apologies for my absence for the past few days. A very bad depressive episode hit me at full force. Earlier today I was experiencing suicidal thoughts again. But luckily I managed to reach out to a crisis relief team who’s going to check up on me tomorrow and make sure that I’m ok.

My job application was unfortunately rejected from one of the places I sent it to, but another organisation scheduled an online interview with me today and despite everything, I managed to attend it. It wasn’t very long and I think I did ok under the circumstances. I’ve applied for a part-time position with a mental health charity. Depending on what they think of the interview I did today, they might give me a follow-up interview and if that goes well, I may very well get this job.

The last day has been an absolute rollercoaster to say the least. I’m still a little shaken up from everything thats happened, good and bad. I’ve been plunged into a dark place and then lifted back up again almost as quickly. But I’m still here so I’m sure that counts for something. There’s also some progress regarding my birthgiver; she had been trying to stop me from claiming necessary financial support, but I think that’s going to change very soon.

There’s some days that you just have to fall away from. At least I’m glad that some good news came from it. My support worker also gave me a pep talk and reminded me that I have a lot to live for. A very kind stranger helped me out at the convenience store when my card wouldn’t work as well, so I got to have a warm bowl of mushroom stew to calm my nerves (and restocked on bubblegum soda).

I can only hope that tomorrow brings some more good news and that I’ll be able to make some more progress with things. If all goes well then I’ll be able to concentrate on my creative projects again later in the week. I’m going to be ok, I promise. The worst of the storm is definitely over, that’s for sure ❤️

[med-anon-z]

... I swear... Looking at everything that's happening, I just wish I could do something about it.

It's not fair. Me and Zeraora agreed that I should use my powers to help others, but it feels like there's nothing I can do about anything anymore.

I just want to change things.

I just want to make everything better, but I can't.

There's nothing I can do, because I don't know where it's happening, or I don't have the skillset, or I do but I'm not strong enough.

At this point I don't even care. I almost want to be the bad guy for once so that I have a chance to change something.

[blownawayy]

i thought it was hard, i knew nothing

[tbhimnoteasyonmyself]

I thought it was weird I had such a good day yesterday despite being filled with anxiety, I should've seen it coming...