Tw Suicidality - Tumblr Posts
i swear the sheer AMOUNT of coroika fics i've read on ao3 where goggles is a major character in it and he either has suicidal thoughts or does kill himself
JUST LET HIM BE A SILLY GUY PLEASE...
(this is not forcing btw. write him however you like it is merely a commentary on the amount of these kinds of fics)
What if Yuu didn't want to go back? What if Yuu was suicidal before, and is giving life a second chance because of the new magic world? What if Yuu wants nothing more than magic and no way "home"?
(I, the author of this work, do not consent to this work being crossposted/translated without my knowledge or used to train an AI, ever.)
Masterlist
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Well, this is unusual. I'm in some kind of box- a coffin, maybe? Ooh, maybe I was buried alive! That'd be fun. Then I wouldn't have to-
"Aha! C'mon, human, give me your uniform! I wanna attend!"
A cat. A chubby, grey little cat with blue flames coming out of its ears just removed the lid from my brand new box and it can talk. Oh my god.
There's a tuft of off-white fur below its neck, it has pink toe beans, and its teeth are unusually sharp, even for a cat. The tip of its tail is trident-shaped and fades into black, and there's a similar gradient on its back paws.
"Grim?" My voice escapes me before I can stop it. I doubt I could stop it, though. The resemblance to Grim, my now-dead cat, is uncanny, and I've missed him ever since he left. I wish I knew what killed him, but... is this really him?
"Yes. I'm Grim, future world-famous mage!" And you are... he starts looking pensive, probably trying to guess my name. "...Yuu. Your name is Yuu."
The cat looks suprised. "How'd you know my name?"
"Is it really... you?" Oh my god, this cat is named Grim.
He's absolutely right. This has to be him.
"Myaa! Hey, human, why are you hugging me? Was I right? Put me- hey, are you crying?" His voice- Grim's voice- momentarily wavers, quieting. "Well... I guess I'll let you keep yours."
"Keep my what?"
"Your uniform. I'm going to enroll at this school to and become a world-famous mage! And, for that, I need a uniform. But..." He pauses. "I'll let you enroll, too. We can be classmates!" He brightens at the last sentence. I resume crying. "Human, are you alright?"
I nod. "Better."
Somewhere nearby is the sound of keys. Someone is trying to open a lock. Startled by the noise, I fall back in my coffin- still holding Grim- and the door of the box slams shut, hiding us both within.
"Hey, Yuu," Grim whispers, "I'm probably gonna get put down as your familiar if I don't get out. What do we do?"
"I don't know. Where are we, anyway?"
A distant click cuts our conversation short as who- or what- ever was fumbling with the keys successfully unlocks and opens the door. Footsteps start approaching, getting louder and louder, before stopping in front of mine and Grim's.
"Why is the lock on this one busted? Usually, they wait for me to open it... do we have an escapee?"
Dim light floods into the coffin, revealing me the two of us to a... plague doctor? No, this looks to be a bird-liking man. His mask only covers the top half of his face, and his eyes glow yellow behind it. He looks just as suprised as I probably do.
"I don't recall anyone with a familiar of that description on the new student register. What's its name?"
"His name is Grim." At the same time, Grim says
"His name is Yuu."
I look at Grim. Grim looks at me.
"Sorry about my hench-human, sir."
Now the bird man looks REALLY suprised.
"We don't have anyone by either of those names on the new student register." He narrows his eyes. "Are you sure you're where you're supposed to be?"
"More than sure!" Grim replies.
"Not really sure," I respond, timed in such a way that the "sure" in the two answers align.
Mr. Bird looks very confused now.
"Is something wrong, headmage?" Someone behind Mr. Bird speaks up, sounding impatient. Mr. Bird turns to the side, revealing a huge crowd of people- some short, some very tall, and some have... horns? Well, Grim has blue flames coming out of his ears, so I guess that's not too far-fetched.
"They aren't on the register." Mr. Bird sounds very confused as he speaks. I catch a "we were one student short of our enrollment quota..." from under his breath. The coffin-box to our right shakes a bit, and out comes a kid with bright, red hair.
"...Sorry. I'm claustrophobic." His explanation is enough to get most people in the room to return their gazes to me, Grim, and Mr. Bird.
"Trappola, right?"
"That's correct, sir."
Mr. Bird shakes his head, smiling slightly. "I remember. You were intentionally placed so you wouldn't have to stay in there for long. My apologies, I should've let you out by now."
Trappola grins. "It's alright. My brother told me how to do this part, so..."
Mr. Bird nods once.
"Go right ahead."
Trappola goes and stands in front of a strange, flat ellipsis that's hovering in the center of the room. His robes are very fancy and appear to be high-quality- as do the identical robes of everyone else in the room, except Grim and Mr. Bird. Am I wearing those, too? A quick glance downwards reveals the answer is yes.
"Heartslabyul." It sounds like the hovering circle is the source of the sound, and it probably is. A red-haired person who's short and too androgynous for me to believe I can accurately assume their pronouns motions for Trappola to join the crowd behind them.
With Grim on my shoulder, I hop out of the coffin-box and move to stand where Trappola did. There's a face in the black-glassed mirror, though it looks more like a mask than a face. I hold my arms just beneath my chest, and Grim, understanding what I'm hinting at, gets down from my shoulder and stands on my arms, leaning towards the mirror's shiny surface. For a moment, a mere moment, all is quiet.
"...Pomefiore!"
I turn around, Grims climbs back onto my shoulder, and a tall, blond girl smiles and motions for us to join the crowd at her back. Standing among them, I'm... Actually starting to feel welcome! People seem exited, genuinely exited, for me to have joined them. That's a first.
After a while, the ceremony is over. I have a cool new pen with a purple gem on the end, and Grim has an identical stone on a necklace. The tall, feminine, blond guy I mistook for a girl- "Vil"- leads us to our dorm.
I don't think I have magic, but I'll have to hope- otherwise, it's... something. I don't know what, but I know it won't be good.
This is part 3 of the "What if Yuu didn't want to go back?" Series!
(I, the author of this work, do not consent to this work being crossposted/translated without my knowledge or used to train an AI, ever.)
Masterlist
"Myaah, keep going!"
"Non, chat. You no longer need to be brushed. Vil, how is Yuu's hair coming along?"
Vil sighs. I've noticed he does that a lot. "Not as well as I thought, Rook. Even though the top layer was absurdly thick, the lower layers don't look much better. This is going to take longer than I expected."
I look up and into the mirror in front of me. Vil has cut my hair short, but the process of detangling the remaining mat of hair has caused the detangled hair to be noticeably longer than what's still a total mess. I'd say the hair he's worked through is about 4 inches, just long enough to cover my ears.
"Say, Monseur Mystery, how did you guess Monseur Chat's name?"
"Well..." I hesitate. Even now, the thoughts of his death still hurt. "When I was living in my world, I found a cat. He was my only friend. He was an alley cat, but chubby- not in a concerning or limiting way, just in a cute way- and he was grey with a large patch of white fur on his front, and his tail faded into black at the end, and... he had polydactly. I think that's what it's called, at least. Do you guys know what that is?"
"Nope!" Grim's reply is cheerful, like an island of comfort in a sea of mourning.
"Well, it's a condition where your limbs split off into multiple limbs. So, a two-tipped finger or extra toe or something. Well, my cat had it on the end of his tail. It looked, " I pause, reaching my hand toward Grim and trying, failing, to hold back tears. "Into three. A trident tail, just like this." I'm holding his tail in my hand now, careful, like he might break just as my voice is doing now. I can hardly speak through the lump in my throat, but I can speak.
"A-and that cat's name was Grim. And he was hit by a car when he was eight, and I've never been the same." I'm crying now, my eyes reduced to floodgates and my voice to a wreck. Vil is hugging me, his arms bringing some sense of safe to me, but that sense of safe pales in comparison to the comfort of holding Grim in my arms. His fur is soft, much softer now that he's been brushed, and Rook has joined the hug.
We stay there, just like that, for what feels like forever. Vil's arms are strong around me, as are Rook's, and I'm holding Grim again, and I don't want to lose him again. I can't. I barely survived the first time; I can't survive a second. The guilt would kill me.
"I guessed his name, too. I didn't know how. It just felt right. But... Yuu, you kind of remind me of someone. Another human. He fed me in my dreams, and his name was Yuu, and we were great friends, but one day he just stopped showing up. I never saw him again." Grim's previously sad face brightens a little, like a tea candle with just enough air to burn. "You look a lot like him, but older. Maybe... maybe he was you."
The tears come back. I let them. This time, they're happy tears, and Grim is crying them, too. Vil allows a few more minutes to pass, just like that, before he lets go and resumes his task of unmatting the other half of my hair. Rook pulls away, too, and waves his magic pen.
A tape measure, like you see tailors using in movies, appears in the air in front of him for him to wrap around my waist with skillful hands. Soon, he's removed the tape measure from my waist in favor of wraping it around my chest, and then my arms, and then Vil tells him off for doing something unnecessary.
I laugh. "Say, Monseur Mystery, have you tried to use magic since you arrived?"
I ponder. "Not really."
Rook chuckles. "Facinating."
"Are you okay with others being let into the room, Yuu?" Vil's voice is soft and soothing. I'm a little jealous, but who cares?
"Go right ahead." The lump in my throat is gone now that Grim is purring happily in my arms, just enjoying the sensation of being pet. Rook leaves the room- still holding his tape measure, I notice- and the door shuts behind him. Surprisingly, I don't hear his footsteps as he walks away, even before the door is closed and blocking my view.
Less than a minute later, the door opens again, revealing Rook, Korrak, and Korrak's familiar, whose name I do not yet know. Rook waves his pen, cleaning the cat brush with magic, and starts brushing the strange oppossum as he brushed Grim.
"Hey, what's your name? I'm Grim!"
"Call me Mandible."
Well, I guess I have a name to go with both of my roommates now. Unlike Grim, Mandible needs only a few minutes of brushing before his fur is even and soft, at which point Rook measures him, waves his pen, and voilá: five small stacks of clothing appear on the counter.
"What are those?" Mandible is already poking at the piles by the time he thinks to ask. I wasn't expecting Mandible to be more talkative than Korrak, but I guess Grim and I are no better.
"Uniforms! The white one is a lab coat for alchemy, the violet one is a dorm uniform, the one next to the lab coat is a PE uniform, the one next to the dorm uniform is a school uniform, and the one in between the dorm clothes and lab coat are some ceremonial robes. All are sized exactly for Monseur Opossum, of course." Rook looks quite proud of himself.
"Myaah, neato! Do I get some?"
"But of course, Monseur Chat! If you'll allow me a moment..." Rook starts measuring Grim just like he did with Mandible, and Vil lets out a triumphant "Hah!"
"Finally conquered my hair?"
"Not entirely, but I'm done with the hard part." With this, Vil pulls out a brush- not a cat brush, just a regular human brush- and starts running it through my hair in a soothing rhythm. Tired from the short day's events, I allow it to lull me to sleep.
This is part 17 of the "What if Yuu didn't want to go back?" Series!
(I, the author of this work, do not consent to this work being crossposted/translated without my knowledge or used to train an AI, ever.)
Masterlist
Today did suck. Grim and I nearly fell asleep during every class except P.E, when we fell asleep and were just left in the shade because Vargas wouldn't let anyone carry us to the nurse. Lovely. That nap gave us the energy to report him, and then it was spent.
I can't remember anything else. Just reading my notes feels like a fever dream. The writing is so messy, it's barely legible, if at all- I can hardly read anything at this point.
The one thing I do remember is going out into the forest for some peace and quiet with Korrak and Mandible. Oh, and falling asleep on Korrak. That too.
Waking up is better. I feel more refreshed already. When I turn to look, though, Korrak is awake.
He sees me staring and laughs softly. "Morning, lil' bro."
I smile. This world really is the best thing to ever happen to me. I have an older brother! And, thinking back, I've probably called Vil "mom" at some point, which probably makes Rook the dad.
"This is nice, isn't it?"
I smile. Grim is right, this is nice. There's a gentle breeze blowing softly, the sun is high enough to light the area but low enough to be out of our eyes, and the clouds are floating lazily overhead, shifting shape as they do.
Korrak has the right idea, lying on his back and looking at the sky.
"I've heard p-people say that it's th-th-these gentle little moments th-that make life comfy." He closes his eyes and reopens them after a second. "Never understood that u-until now."
"Never paid attention to them?"
He shakes his head, the grass underneath his hair rustling quietly as he does. "Never h-had any I could p-p-pay attention t-."
He pronounces "attention" as "addention" and stutters at the word "to," but only once. Instead of trying to say both letters, he just gives up after the first holdup.
"Why not?"
"B-being calm is a p-privilege I just couldn't afford." His expression saddens. I didn't even realize I had spoken until he answered me.
"Yeah," I start, knowingly this time, "I get that. Like life is a racetrack and being content is taking a leisurely walk, and by the time you realize running is optional, you're surrounded by people who either don't know or don't care and you have to keep going or you'll get trampled. Like there's a wall of people between you and joy, and the only way to slow down and survive is to be removed from the track entirely. I get that."
"Y-yuu..." Korrak is crying now. I don't know when he started, but there are tears running down his cheeks.
"Do you really f-feel like th-that?.. H-hey, you can s-stay on the t-t-t-t-track. Don't go." His voice drops to barely a whisper. I almost can't hear him over the breeze.
"P-please, not you t-t-t-t-too..."
Oh, he doesn't know the part about leaving the track was supposed to refer to me suddenly waking up a student at Night Raven College- he thinks I'm still suicidal.
"Korrak... That's not what I meant by that."
"W-what could you h-h-have meant? Did you j-just lie down f-for a nap and sit u-up in T-T-T-Twisted Wonderland?"
"Uh... pretty much."
"What?" This time, Mandible talks. Korrak lies still, presumably processing what I just said. He soon turns, looks at me, and gives Mandible a "You do the taking" short of look.
"So, I... I'm not from a world with magic. I'm from another track, so to speak. One day, I woke up in a coffin, met Grim, and got sorted into Pomefiore. In under ten minutes."
"What the fuck? Yuu and Grim didn't meet until the first day entrance ceremony?"
"Kinda. When I lived in the other world, I had a cat. He had a condition where the end of his tail split into a trident, just like this," I'm holding the end of Grim's tail now, he's snuggling into me and purring in a successful attempt to calm me down, "and he was my only friend, and he died, and I was never the same. And then, I saw him at the entrance ceremony, and..."
I'm crying now. Korrak has moved onto his side, wrapped his arms around me, and placed my head near the junction between his neck and shoulder. I'm hugging back, and Grim has moved to the same spot on me to purr.
"It's okay. I'm o-okay. I have Grim back, and I have magic, and I'm happy."
Everyone is crying now. Me, Korrak, Grim, and Mandible, crying and hugging and smiling and lying on the ground and, in Grim's case, purring.
"As much as I hate to interrupt this, Roi de Poison would like you all back inside before twilight. Is is dusk."
Rook is right. We have our skincare routines, and dinner, and bedtime, and I should probably shower. At the very least, though, I think I'm a little closer to cracking the smokescreen that is Korrak Dinak.
Rook leads the four of us back into the dorm. Vil is waiting patiently at the door, likely to make sure we're okay.
The clock says we've been out in the woods for over two and a half hours. That gives us enough time to shower, do our usual skincare routine, and still get to bed on time.
Before we go to the Backstage Room, Rook hands each of us a small plate with some very appetizing food on them.
"Eat quickly," he whispers, and then he is gone. I listen, but Vil stops us.
"Do not choke. Take reasonable bites."
We did need the reminder. Finally, we're off! Hopefully, some hot water will help me sleep.
The shower did help. I passed out the instant I flopped onto the soft, welcoming comforter, and that was that.
Not a great day, but an excellent conclusion. I'll take it.
We don't wake up too early this time, either. Korrak and Mandible aren't in the room by then, so we just go straight to the Backstage Room and get that managed.
"Yer tellin' me you ain't never seen 'n apple tree? How th' fu- fresh hell does that work out?"
Epel's morning over-breakfast talk is extra entertaining when you also listen to Vil sigh in the background.
"You think everything has apple trees? No. Korrak, pass me another one of the fruits."
Mandible chews on his apple and Epel stares in disbelief. "Y'all're city folk? An' here I thought you lotta come from somewhere interestin'!"
Oh, if only he knew.
!TW!: mentions of chronic illness, gender dysphoria, depression, suicidal thoughts
I've been battling with awful thoughts this year, being diagnosed with a chronic illness isnt good in any kind of way. I feel how my entire body burns every day, i get to feel my heart clench in my chest for hours and there is no solution to it i just have to live with it and with that thoughts of just fucking dying are my only source of comfort next to my 24 hour playlists to which i listen while self loathing. I don't even know what my name is and i hate my boobs and i don't want to have my period every month. I wish i knew at least one trans person irl so i can cling tightly to them so i can find some kind of peace for my never ending grief. Since i was fucking born I've felt like my body shouldn't have existed, it's as if it was a failed version yet i was the unlucky motherfucker to end up in it. I barely even sleep at night, i hate how I'm so fucking useless that i can't even bring myself to get up from bed, I'm a weight on everyone's shoulder. I worry my friends that i might die and my parents think I'm a manipulative asshole, they say they love me but i haven't felt loved in so fucking long that it even feels wrong when someone other than my family says they love me. I need real help but my fucking therapist died and all the other psychiatrists and therapists i see are fucking useless because i lie to them and they dont realise it. It's so frustrating knowing I'll never be painless even if i do everything right and the worst thing is that i have to put up with idiotic schoolwork because im still a fucking minor. I wish i could just fucking close my burning eyelids and wake up somewhere else, somewhere peaceful without my parents screaming at me when they know i can't talk because my throat closes itself. I want to tell this to my friend but i don't want to bother her with all of my feelings because she has enough fucking problems and i don't want to be another one on that list. It's just been an awful year, please if you could just give me name ideas so i at least feel alright with one thing in my life I'd really appreciate it. I'd like something that sounds like Noah or Mason but still femenine like Vera i just dont know what to do.
Sinkhole
ao3 link
Mature | Gen | 2.6k words | Ogata Hyakunosuke | Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD | Suicidality | Suicidal Ideation | Psychosis | Flashbacks | More tags on AO3
For as long as he can remember, he's been opting to get up every morning and see what it brings him, if for nothing else than morbid curiosity. Does this not make the opposite of a deathwish? That every day he carefully decides against it?
While everyone's asleep at the campfire, Ogata is having flashbacks to the war. Or: a study of what chronic suicidality would look like for his story and character.
TW: suicidal ideation.
—- + -—
“You shouldn’t need to worry,” you had assured them, holding back the cracks in your voice as a remorseful grin splayed across your lips unwillingly, “I… I’m not essential. Even if I did do it, I’m sure you’d be fine. You’d just realise you never needed me after all.”
I’m sorry to say, but the humour only left a bitter taste in your F/O’s mouth— never because of you, but something in their core boils at the thought. A thousand dreams and futures play in their mind, yet they never find a possibility in which they wouldn’t be devastated at what you had referenced. Living a full life with your time together cut so short? Because you had been fighting yourself for so long and they failed to notice?? Because they failed to help and show you how much they love you???
No, just the thought feels wrong.
They wouldn’t stand for it.
This flashes through their mind in a nanosecond. They won’t treat you like you’re made of glass, yet it’s obvious from the way your F/O wraps their arms around you and lets you rest with them as they gaze sadly at their beloved that you’re their most treasured jewel. They won’t be scared off by the breakdowns or vents or numb days; you’ve chosen them out of trillions of others and still loved them so beautifully. How would their thoughts ever linger on leaving you, especially when they have the chance to show how deep their devotion runs?
Your F/O wouldn’t think twice about holding you on the bad days and reminding you of your limits, wouldn’t hesitate to be your pillar of strength when the world tries to slip hatred under your door, would never despise you for seeking help when you need rest after your lifelong fight. You survived for so long, and your rest is long overdue. You never asked for these scars, but your F/O is determined to embrace and care for each and every one of them.
After all, you’re their hero.
i love how you write. it's saving my life today.
Wow… I wish there was some more eloquent way to verbalise that, but — firstly — I was not expecting that when going into my inbox. I hope you can enjoy more of my writing, you made my author soul happy for the day.
Now, even if I’m not sure if you meant the “saving your life” thing literally or metaphorically, I feel the need to thank you… not just for reading my stuff and sending this, but to thank you for all that you do. Take it from someone that (if you meant it on the more literal side) has believed the Voices more than a few times, existing is hard.
I don’t mean this as a therapist, authority figure, or some other “superior”, but as a fellow tired internet lurker: thank you. Thank you for all that you do, for each breath you take that others take for granted, for surviving when it feels impossible, for existing.
Maybe I’m just an optimist, but we’re not alone. Your F/O would never want you to believe what those louder thoughts claim. You deserve so much more than what you’re feeling right now, Anon. I can’t promise a way out, but I can hope that maybe through my writing, I might help you have some semblance of joy to make life a bit more worth it?
Hi! Can I get an angst/comfort fic of Arthur with a female s/o who is depressed and suicidal? Like he walks in on his s/o c*tting while having a mental breakdown? Or he just notices the cuts/scars? Or he walks in on his s/o bl33ding out?? Idk you can get creative with it I’ve just been having an extremely rough couple months. If this makes you uncomfortable then you can just ignore this request, but thanks anyways! I hope you have a great day/night!! <3
It's my problem if I feel the need to hide
Pairing: Arthur x f!reader
Summary: You feel under the weather, but decide not to tell anyone. As your condition only worsens, your friends start to worry about you. It's when you decide to let everything go your knight with blue eyes and a cheeky smile comes to the rescue.
Warnings: depression, suicidal ideation, not being able to care for oneself (containing lack of hygiene and proper meals), mentions of vomit(ing) (3), negative self talk, dark thoughts
A/N: I am so sorry for the delay of this fic, I hope it will be of use to you still. I haven't written for this fandom in a long while, so getting back to it was a little hard, though I enjoyed it none the less. I tried not to use any (Y/N)s and make it as racially neutral as possible, as well as appearance-neutral (Arthur carries reader 1 time, but he's stronger than a regular human, and y'all deserve it ladies, no matter your size). If anyone wants to talk about anything at all, my dms are open, as well as my ask box. Take care of yourselves and stay safe!
The human mind is possibly nature's greatest invention. The complexity with which all its components interact to keep the body functioning is nothing short of phenomenal. And not only that, but it is aware of itself, encasing its own conscience inside a safe vessel, built and evolved specifically to protect it. And as time progressed, and all the basic needs of the body were cared for, there came a need to create. The body could easily be fed, but the conscience needed a different type of sustenance.
The human mind is capable of incredible things. It can set goals for itself as well as achieve them. It shaped the entire world to its liking, for better or for worse. The human mind is the reason why we live the lives we do today. It is the thing that keeps us alive and sane.
It's funny how drastically that can change.
If you'd ask any of the men residing in the mansion on who the worst enemy of humans is, you're sure all of them would at least mention the human conscience, if not directly choose it. After all, their lives have been woven through with the thread of sorrow, the perpetrator being none other than the human mind- theirs or someone else's.
At this point, you feel like you've at least got a peek at the complex inner worlds of history's greatest minds. Some you knew better than others, but you've been le Comte's servant for long enough to consider all the mansion's residents at least friends.
It was evident to anyone who has been in the mansion for at least a month that all of the people (and vampires) residing in it had some sort of baggage, wearing them down even in their second undead life. Some were better at hiding it than others, some just felt more comfortable keeping their troubles to themselves, while others' emotions and traumas were sometimes too great, too overwhelming to be kept locked inside their bodies.
You've tried your best to help those who needed it, both physically and mentally. It helped a few to open up to you at least a little and as time went on, with your hard work, you've earned respect for yourself even amongst the toughest nuts in the mansion. Poking through others' personal affairs and traumas carried along numerous fights as well as apologies and in the end just served to strengthen the bond between you and the residents. And yet, at times like these...you couldn' help but feel alone.
Like all the others, you had to shoulder the burden of traumas, insecurities and unpleasant experiences collected unwillingly throughout your life. You suspected the others knew of this, or at least had a hunch that you, like all of them, haven't had the pleasure of living a carefree life.
They saw you as an independent, strong and courageous woman, resilient and kind in any situation. And if you were in the right state of mind, you would agree. But lately, you began to doubt these traits of yours, the ones you valued so much and were valued for.
You weren't a stranger to struggling and you knew that anyone in need of help deserved to receive it and should not be scared to ask for it.
So why did the thought of asking for help make your stomach churn?
You've been pondering that question for a few days now. Lately, your entire reality seemed to have shifted. At first, you didn't think anything was wrong, a simple bad day, or a bad week wasn't anything to be too worried about. Nothing a nice, relaxing weekend couldn't fix, right? And yet, when you had tasks to complete, you felt agitated and annoyed, but when you had nothing to do, you were antsy and restless. Always feeling like something should be happening, like you should be doing something. For some reason, you couldn't make yourself to do the things you felt you should be doing.
Soon everything has become a bother. Tasks you could usually do with one hand were suddenly so hard that by the end of the day, the thought of bathing or changing into clean clothes made you want to scream until your throat was sore. And so you chipped away at your routine that you so painstainkingly built when you appeared in this time, until the only remaining activities in your days were your work and some basic necessities.
You knew it was getting bad. And it constantly created an almost numbing whirlwind of emotions you really didn't need right now. Why was this happening? What brought it on? Why now?? Is it going to get worse? All these questions and none you had an answer to. You had guesses and various techniques you learnt here and there back in your time, but...you couldn't bring yourself to do anything.
You were trapped. At least it felt like it. Trapped inside yourself, inside your mind. You knew you should tell someone, that if you let it go on, it would sooner or later consume you. But you couldn't do anything. It was as if your body didn't listen to you.
It seemed the residents were starting to get suspicious of your strange mood as of late. There were times when one of them would approach you and carefully ask about your wellbeing, and as much as you wanted to say something, you never did. You logically knew that the first step would be the one to break through the loop, the one that would make all the others just a little bit easier until you felt normal again. But anytime you tried to break through the selfdestructive habits you had fallen into, a wave of such tirednes, nausea and shame overcame you, that you simply caved to your mind's twisted whispers.
You concluded that your best option at this moment was to lay low and let it pass. Your days have become a steady routine of wake up, work, go to bed. And repeat. It was manageable, at first, even with the onslaught of thoughts your mind was conjuring, managing to come up with more and more ways to taunt you with. But as days and then weeks passed, your energy slowly seeped away from your body and it retaliated by shutting off and out anything unnecessary to save as much of what was remaining.
These things included mostly socialising. You became less talkative, while you would usually enthusiastically engage in conversations, if not outright start them, lately you would not speak unles directly spoken to. It has taken a toll on your concentration as well. Many times when someone would try to strike up a conversation with you, they'd have to repeat their question or even call out your name mid-conversation, because mentally you just weren't there. These things not only started to worry Sebastian, your biggest constant in your new life, given that you worked alongside him every day, but also the other residents. You knew of this, as out of it as you might have seemed and/or have been these past few weeks, you knew that they noticed, because you knew them. But what started as a simple snowball had alrady turned into an avalanche and you had to admit that you were no longer in control.
Not that you really cared. You knew you should care, should be trying harder than ever to break out of this spell, but you couldn't. And every time you might have felt strong enough to confess how you were feeling, to lean on someone, to get the help you knew you needed, a sudden pang of fear pierced your chest and you shrivelled back, back into your own small shell that was your skull.
Trying to find a reason for this foolish anxiety proved not so easy, when your mind would make up about five reasons why you should keep your mouth shut every time you even dared to ask yourself such a question.
What if they didn't believe you?
What if it wasn't not that bad?
What if you were just making it up? Making it seem bigger than it is?
These people have gone through so much. They've seen war, witnessed and felt abuse and probably had been through things you couldn't even imagine. Why should they help you, when they're the ones who needed help?
You were not worthy.
Such comparisons were something you chastised anyone who would confess experiencing them for. And yet, when it came to you, it felt like a holy truth. Something that could not and should not be questioned. Because you don't want to be selfish, do you?
You've dealt with this by yourself before, surely you could do it again and not drag down others with you. These and many others became your daily mantras. Lay low, hide, be small, don't make a noise. Survive. But was that really how you wanted to live? If you could even call that a living. You were surviving, yes, but at what cost? For a promise of a period of time where you wouldn't feel like the world is made out of cardboard? A period of time where you wouldn't feel like screaming and crying every second of every day? And how long would that last? A few months, a year maybe? Was it really worth the struggle?
You blinked yourself out of your thoughts when someone vigorously snapped in front of your eyes. Looking around in slight daze, your eyes fall upon a smiling face. "There you are! Theo says he's just waiting for you to walk face first into a wall!" Arthur says cheerily, showing you his signature smirk. "I, like the good friend I am, keep defending you of course. But it's hard when your mind seems to get further and further away from us every day. At this rate, you'll wander off into Seine soon. And we wouldn't want that, would we?" he playfully jabbed at you.
You could feel yourself shaking your head, but the only thing you could focus on was how nice it acually seemed, the cold water seeping through clothes and circling your limbs, the undercurrents keeping you down, where nothing could get you, laying you down onto the riverbed, weighed by the water in your lungs... "So, what's going on in that noggin of yours, hm?"
Arthur was, besides Sebastian, the closest person to you out of all the others. You enjoyed his easygoing demeanor and his jokes never failed to make you laugh. He was a terrible flirt though, and someties could be pretty pushy with his advances as you've realised over the time you two spent together. Luckilly, after a firm conversation backed up by Theo, he had calmed down significantly towards you. The writer still heavily complimented you, always putting that silver tongue of his to use, but you thought nothing of it. He was like that with everyone, even some of the other residents, so the possibility of it ever meaning anything more than banter or a simple compliment never even crossed your mind.
"You're doing it again." the man in question sighed. You blinked at him with confusion. As if reading your thoughts, Arthur clarified "You're in your head again. It must be something really interesting in there to make you so distracted." he joked again, but his expression turned serious "But honestly, what's going on? You haven't been yourself for quite a while now and everyone's getting worried. Even Wolf asked me if I knew what was up with you the other day!" the writer looked at you intently "You know that we're here for you, right? Even if you feel like it's stupid, if you need anything, you can tell us."
You averted your eyes from Arthur' piercing gaze. You knew his words were sincere and it made your chest squeeze uncomfortably. Looking straight ahead, in the direction which you were going, you answered, trying to make your voice as leveled as you could "Thank you for worrying Arthur, but I'm alright, really. I've been thinking of asking le Comte for a break. It would be nice to have some off time." This wasn't a complete lie, since having some down time, where you could pretend time has stopped really did sound appealing, but now you'd have to actually go and ask the good count, which you really didn't want to. Not because you were worried you wouldn't be given a break, but because it was another plan to be made and you barely had enough energy to last you until the end of the day, much less go somewhere out of your own volition.
Arthur knew that you were lying, or at least not telling him everything, so he grinned at you again and spoke confidently "Alright, love, the game is on! I gave you a chance to explain youself, but it seems I'll have to solve this mystery myself." he winked at you and you expected him to take his leave. But Arthur softly grabbed your arm and stopped you in the middle of the halway you were in. Turning to face him in his hold you looked at him questioningly. His smile is much softer now, and if you could focus properly, you would see worry glinting in his eyes "If you ever change your mind, you can stop by. Day, night, doen't matter. We're here for you, love. I'm here for you. Just as much as you're here for us." and as soon as he finished speakig, he was gone. Down the hallway, in the direction of his room. You quietly turned around, trying to process the strange encounter while you went your way.
Your mind was surprisingly quiet for a few hours after that.
You eventually did end up in le Comte's study. Nerves were wracking your body and mind the entire day and when you finally did enter the dreaded room, after all your chores were done for the day, you felt like you would start crying at any moment. For some reason, you felt awful for doing this. You didn't need the break. You didn't need off time to get better physically or because you had too many chores. Why did you want a break, besides Arthur catching on that there was, indeed, something wrong? The only thing you had planned for this break of yours was rotting away in your bed and doing as little as humanely possible. Maybe fate would be so kind and take you away in your sleep. Let you wither away like an overwatered flower.
You tried to make the discussion as quick as possible. Fortunately, the count didn't ask too many questions about your wellbeing and the reason for taking a break, remembering well that you haven't had one in a good while. He did ask if you consulted Sebas about it and you forced down a shudder at the mention of your good friend's name. Not because the butler was opposed to you taking a break, he actually kindly insisted you take one, revealing that he also noticed your mental absence in the past weeks, which could be almost counted as a month now. The worry and confusion in his tone as well as his expression made you wish he told you to stay, to help him, anything to try and convince you to not do what you were about to.
Why were you so worried? There wasn't a reason you should feel bad about taking a break. Even if you physically were just as spry as a grasshopper, taking a break for the sake of mental health was just as important. But deep down, you coudn't lie to yourself. Deep down you knew you were going to give up completely. Either for someone to find you, or to be left to rot. And right now, you hoped for the latter, even if it was still scary to admit.
After Comte gave you a week off, asking if it was enough time for you, which you hastily confirmed, feeling bile rise up your throat and wishing for the comfines of your room, your shaky legs and hazy mind managed to carry you to your room. After spending some time emptying the contents of your stomach, which were absolutely too small you would bet, you nothing but collapsed onto your bed. Mouth unrinsed, hair oily and ruffled, it had finally dawned on you how much of a mess you must have loked like. This realisation finally seemed to open the dam that was holding back everything you were feeling. The disgust, the shame, the fear, the anxiety the heavines, the loneliness, but most importnatly the longing.
Fast, salty tears carried all of that out of your body, leaving your face a puffy, sticky mess. Suddenly, you felt rage boil inside of your chest, sprading quickly to your head. Why didn't you say anything? You were so worried and because of what? Your own mind? Could you be any more stupid? The very same mind that put you through absolute hell this past month was now angry at itself, at its own actions. Why did the world have to be this cruel? Why couldn't it grant you the simple request of a mind that would not try to sabotage itself? And now it was too late.
Yo chose this, you thought to yourself. You chose this and these were the consequences of your actions. As if the tears have released all your pent up frustration in your body, all that it left was numbness. A kind of numbness that made your eyelids heavy, making them gravitate towards each other and pulling you into a deep, calm slumber. The kind of slumber you have not been able to achieve for more than the month you've been actively suffering. But also the kind of slumber that would not bring you closer to salvation.
You woke up, not knowing the time and not really finding yourself caring either. You felt strangely...calm. There was no hunger, no thirst, nothing. Only suffocating quiet, the likes of which you would feel in the deep blue of the ocean. You laid stil for what felt like hours, but could have also been minutes, before you succumbed to unconsciousness again.
This has gone on for a few days of your week long break. At one point you felt the pang of hunger, yet you had no will to satiate it. You only rose from your bed late into the night, when the squeezing walls of your stomach, at this point surely eating itself, threatened to spill nothing but its own acid. You tiptoed as quietly as your stiff muscles could into the kitchen, and after munching on some bread and water, because even though you got up, you still didn't feel like cooking, or that you deserved anything more than the simplest of dishes, you quietly stalked the halls back into your room. You fell asleep again, your stomach satisfied, or maybe convinced into satisfaction by your mind, the last thing you heard was the faint sound of Mozart's piano in the dead of the night.
This cycle had repeated for another few days. Your days were interrupted by quiet knocking that would wake you from your slow decline, and sometimes joined by murmurs behind the door. You couldn't find it in you to care. The door wasn't locked. At one point, you could swear you saw a shadow in your window, but it was gone too soon for your slowed mind to focus on it.
One morning, somewhere at the end of your break, not that you were keeping track of time, your door opened. A gust of fresh air was the first thing that barged its way into your room, chasing out the old and musty, albeit warm air from it. You shivered and wiggled deeper under your covers, grumbling hoarsely in protest. Your half asleep mind registered someone slowly walking into your room, as if they were scared to find out what was in it. You kept your eyes closed.
Arthur knelt down beside your bed, looking at your sickly, worn out face. Carefully sneaking his arm under your blanket, his hand searched for yours until it could take it into its own. Caressing your knuckles with his thumb, he cooed softly "Oh, love. I am so sorry. I am so sorry we let this get so far." You didn't respond. What was there to say? "It isn't your fault" you croaked out quietly, not having enough energy to say it loudly and fearing your voice wouldn't work.
"Why did you hide from us? We would've helped..." the writer almost whined, and you could feel the guilt and worry radiating from him. You wanted so desperately to answer, to give him a good reason for how foolish you were acting, but you couldn't. There was nothing that would excuse you. Nothing.
Seeing your slightly open eyes well up with tears, Arthur rushed closer to comfort you. Shushing and soothing you like a small child after a booster shot, he held you close and you tried not to weep hader. "It's alright, love, everything is alright. I've got you. I've got you now, it's good. You're alright."
After you calmed down slightly, you wanted nothing more than to shoo him away, close yourself off again an bury yourself into your bed to get away from the immense shame you felt. But Arthur seemed to be having none of that. He softly but insistently reached under you and helped you sit up with one arm, holding your hand with the other still. you couldn't bring yourslf to look him in the eye and yet his tone never changed from the soft lull he comforted you with. "Come on now, darling. Let's get you cleaned up."
Your mind wanted desperately to push back at him, scream and yell and fight, but you almost limply let him straighten you up and help you walk over to the bathroom. The writer's heart nearly broke in two as he saw you in the same clothes you were in when he last spoke to you. The image of you suffering in silence for so long made him nearly tear up as well, but he held himself back, focusing on you being his biggest priority.
He ran a bath for you, helped you out of your clothes, his gaze never cascading from your face, looking for any signs of overstepping any boundaries and when he found none, he helped you into the bathtub, first washing your hair and then your body, asking if you could and wanted to handle your private parts yourself. You whispered out a small yes, feeling somewhat ashamed still and wanting to make his efforts a bit easier. Letting you soak in the blissfully warm water, a question appeared in your mind "Arthur..." you called out quietly "Were you the one knocking at my door?" you asked timidly, not knowing fully if it wasn't some kind of delirium your mind put you through. The writer's face became solemn as you took a peek at his face and he spoke, his words and tone equally heavy "Everyone did. We were worried about you. After we heard about your break, we thought it might do you well. Everyone noticed that you weren't quite yourself. But after the first few days, when no one ever saw you leave the mansion, let alone your room, our worries doubled. Wolf said he noticed you walking to the kitchen at night, but Sebas only noticed small portions of bread disappearing from the kitchen, so we wanted to check up on you. We tried knocking at your door, not wanting to disturb you if you really were physically ill, but that didn't do anything." "And the window?" you interrupted him, casting your eyes downward again at the rude gesture. But Arthur continued, with no offense taken "That was Dazai. He was checking up on you a lot. In his own way." Arthur smiled sadly "Today, I had enough. Something was telling me you needed help. And I'm glad I listened to my instinct." he smiled at you and you felt your dry lips lift up ever so slightly. You were found when you needed it the most, it seemed.
After Arthur dried you off and helped you put on fresh clothes, he told you Sebas made a nutritious meal for you that wouldn't upset your stomach. He also suggested it would do you good to get out of your room for at least a little while and eat it in the kitchen. Seeing the panic in your eyes, he rushed to assure you "You don't have to talk to anyone if you don't want to." And so you nodded.
The mansion seemed awfully quiet. There was no one in the halls, no sounds from either corner of the building. On your slow trek to the kitchen, you passed Mozart. The musician didn't say anything, but his lips melted from their usual stern frown to a warm smile and you couldn't help but to start crying again. Athur sat down with you on the cold ground of the hallway, pulling you onto his lap and rocking you back and forth until you felt good enough to walk again. Mozart was nowhere in sight.
You found out that Sebas made you a delicious soup, one with enough vegetables and some meat, the broth strong enough to get you up on your feet in no time. You ate slowly and savoured every spoonful. You suddenly realised how much you've missed eating good food. After your meal was done and Arthur washed your bowl and spoon in silence, he slowly sat down next to you. "How are you feeling?" he asked carefully, knowing that you were nowhere near out of the deep end yet, but desperately hoping his efforts weren't for naught. "Better. Fuller." you answered simply. After another beat of comfortable silence, where you soaked up the sun pouring in through the windows, the writer asked again "Would you like to go back to your room?" You pursed your lips. Suddenly, the idea of your bed and the stuffy room you hid yourself away in sounded horrible. But he comfortable, fluffy clothes and full stomach were pullig at your eyelids again, sleep threatening to take over. "My room it is, then?"
Arthur piped up and you nodded. Before you knew it, you were scooped up bridal style by the vampire, feeling his soft lips on your hairline "Rest, love. I've got you." Soon, you were in a room that smelled of coffe and cologne with a hint of ink. Once again, you wriggled under the covers, these ones feeling much fresher than yours, as you succumbed to sleep once again. But this time, you weren't alone.
How is it that pretty much my entire family is shitty?
My legal guardian was narcissistic and physically and mentally abusive, my aunt was emotionally abusive and is now financially abusing me, my mom was narcissistic and emotionally, financially, and mentally abusive, my dad was physically, mentally, and emotionally abusive, my stepmom is emotionally abusive, my aunt through my stepmom is two-faced and emotionally abusive, and my grandpa through my stepmom is emotionally abusive.
My older sister is good, but she's been so sucked in by my mom that she's completely forgotten how well we got along and has shut me out. Same with my younger brother. My youngest sister I can't even get in contact with and don't know well. My other younger brother got away from our mom, but we don't stay in contact much. My adoptive brother is pretty understanding, but he still thinks that our guardian was a great mom and shuts out all of the abuse that we went through. He also is still being manipulated by our aunt who is in control of our major finances.
Part of me feels like I'm the problem, and it's my fault because if every relationship I've had has gone to shit and I'm the common denominator, then how could it not be?
But my one brother getting away and going no contact with our mom gave me some validation. I've also gained a few friends that I get along with just fine, so that helps, too.
I just have to keep reminding myself of all the shit that these people put me through: My guardian hit me and tried to force me to act neurotypical, as well as denying my mental and physical health issues while acting like I had so many other ones. She had me on too high of a dose of ADHD meds to try and force me to be normal, and never let me go to doctors appointments alone, because she had to talk over me the entire time. My mom had me paying for her animals and caring for them, but guilted me about how I didn't do anything, as well as threatening to take mine and my sister's animals away on multiple occasions because she was mad at us. She later blamed me for my youngest sister being suicidal and abandoned me at a homeless shelter. Then stole over $1000 woeth of my stuff and tossed the rest on the curb bmthe night before pickup. My dad repeatedly and intentionally triggered PTSD attacks, as well as putting his hands on me to restrain me during one. And when I went no contact for 2 years, he told everyone that I had molested his dogs and my sister. Later, he used my animal abuse/neglect charge against me and told everyone that I liked to kill animals. This time, he's repeatedly called animal control, supported my aunt when she stole my cats, and is telling everyone that I'm an animal abuser. And he allowed my service dog to be nearly killed on multiple occasions by his severely unstable dog, who has also snapped at his own kids and the neighbors kid. He nearly bit my face and him and my stepmom still defended him and yelled at me for instinctively hitting him.
My mom and dad now are claiming that I was the abusive one and that I'm manipulative and malicious.
I'm sick of it. I just wish I could have decent familial support.
The Red Flags of Ruby's Suicidality Throughout The Volume
It should be obvious, but this short essay will cover heavy subjects of suicide, so if you're uncomfortable with this subject matter please don't read this.
The first red flag was in episode 4, where Ruby contemplated erasing her current self due to her failures, after talking to her 'past self'.
This gets reinforced by the lyrics of Trapdoor, which is about how worthless and unneeded Ruby feels.
One common mindset among suicidal people is this: what if I'm useless? What if my friends don't need me anymore? What if they don't care about me? What if I'll keep ruining everything? Would the world be better without me?
Suicidal people are usually full of self-loathing and blame.
Even in the episode 7 fight Ruby felt useless after seeing C-PTSD red flags (they're not Neo hallucinations because she didn't see the Schnee manor grounds struggle with hacked Penny). In her eyes, the others are fighting well without her, so she's useless.
Another set of red flags is snapping at your loved ones, pushing them away and driving yourself into isolation. We see ALL these in episodes 7 and 8, with Ruby snapping at her friends and running away, and even pushing Little away.
And on top of it she feels like her friends don't care, the world is against her, etc. which is YET another red flag.
(Massive disclaimer that this is NOT anti WBY and they, especially Yang, tried to reach out to her throughout the volume.)
I'd like to mention that if your loved one attempts and you tried to help but couldn't do it, it is NOT your fault. We're not all experts and we try our best, so do not ever blame yourself for these things.
It's not uncommon for suicidal people to refuse help, and on top of it Ruby has always been selfless to self destructive levels.
And the last thing, her self blame over her loved ones dying. While Penny and Pyrrha were apparitions, they still reflected her self blame. And Little dying? The final straw.
So her suicide attempt in the end was being built up all volume.
All I can say is that I hope Ruby somehow gets rescued and also recovers from her mental health problems because JESUS CHRIST.
This was a bit hard for me to write, especially as someone with BPD and frequent suicidal tendencies. This topic hits hard for me. However, I'm not an expert and this post shouldn't be taken as gospel. There may be details even I missed, so feel free to add your own observations.
And remember that if you are suicidal as well, you're not alone. You'll always have people who care about you, and resources to help out.
Listen up!
You see a post like this? Where OP might hurt/kill themselves? You hit that button that I circled
Hit that.
Click Suicide or Self-harm Concern
Yes.
Fill in the rest of it, and hit submit. The "content you reported" will fill itself in
Tumblr will follow up and help them.
Warning: this is only for mobile. If anyone knows how to do this for desktop, please add it!
This could SAVE SOMEONE'S LIFE.
YOU HAVE NO EXCUSE NOT TO REBLOG THIS.
I DON'T GIVE A FUCK IF IT DOESN'T GO WITH YOUR BLOG'S THEME.
And yes, REBLOG. Liking does no shit at all. This isn't ig.
You reblog, people see it. You don't, people don't see it. This shit's that simple.
This could save someone's life. It's not a joke.
I deserve to die In a hole
By: me :P
I deserve to die in a hole
Decapitated and thrown
From the heel to collarbone
Saw me up with one that’s razor toothed and long
Scrape the skin
Like some good chicken
Until you get some fine, white bone
With ligaments and muscle tossed around
Make a bandana to tie around and drown
Asphyxiation and deep cuts are the truth
Leave me hanging and mangled with bruises blue!
Put each bone in bonafide fire
That reaches higher yet higher
And leave them there
Cracking and splintering like old stone
Until they’re as black as a completely dark canvas, alone
Take my heart and leave it to the flies
Let it run it’s course
Let it run through the night
And when a week has passed
Greet the reek and stench of a heart pieced apart!
For that ugly mug of a face
Hit it with a mace
Eye sockets, fill them with snakes
Leave it with no loveable grace
And crack open that ol’ coconut
For a brain to tip out with no trace!
There! Right there!
A delectable dish for you
Enjoy the wrinkled remains
A literal brain food!
Cut at one part and suck like noodles from end to end
Or slice it up into a fine, moist piece of Spam
Looks like a square!
And yet there’s so much more to do!
With this nutritious mind of a fool!
Into the machine, it blends and blends
Until slushing out
A meaty smoothie shake!
Whatever you do, it’s not rude
Because at the end of my dismemberment, there are no rules!
So crush me, pull apart me, burn me, slice and dice me,
Do whatever you want with what’s left of this!
Because
I deserve to die in a hole
Take out your shovels, because decomposition is my next goal…
that poem was cool right chat?
chat?
A part of me is ready to just end it all. My father has decided to just worm his way back into my life, now suddenly wanting to be a father suddenly now that his marriage has fallen apart. He's just like my mom. They act like I'm an idiot, incapable, just to be talked over and have people do things for me, then get mad when I don't know it. They talk about me living with them forever, not want me to go anywhere, make comments about me not being able to stay away from home. They only call me when they want somebody to mother them. I'm too stupid to be on my own or make decisions for myself, but yeah, go ahead and call me to baby you and do what you need me to do, or when you're lonely. Don't respect my boundaries or what I tell you. I guess I'm still 13. 10 years means nothing. Nothing I did meant anything.
Even with friendships, I'm only liked because they're lonely and miss somebody else, I'm a backup. Everything, nobody cares how they've treated me, and still expect me to bend over backwards or drop everything for them. I want to pack up and leave, yet I don't know where to go. There's nowhere to go. I feel like I'm disposable, there to be picked up when needed but on my own the rest. I wish I knew where to go, but I feel out of place everywhere and I'm so emotionally drained. Everybody acts like when I'm anything but fine it's a hassle and I'm dramatic. Idk what I've done but it's just my curse I guess. I should've ended it and stayed in 2014 forever.