Depression Tw - Tumblr Posts

Vent art. Digital. 11th December, 2019.

Come ON. You have an even semi-successful blog that appeals to a niche group of fans. I probably won't even get that, if i ever start a blog. I've seen quite a few people who make great, creative work stop working because they think they're terrible. Don't fall into that hole, because its goddamn hard to get out of.

First of all, thank you! It's pretty crazy that I even have any followers and I try to post as often as I can but I was kind of going in a downward spiral (crying every night for no reason, scratching up my arms, etc). I've actually been feeling a lot better so expect more memes :)

Here’s the thing: nothing is insignificant if it helps you through life. Nothing is silly if it gives you just the right amount of light you need to take the next step forward. If your hyper fixation or special interest brings you comfort and peace amidst chaos and hardships then you cling onto that, whether it’s a TV show or a song or a football team.

You wanna know a silly little thing that helped me in one of my darkest episodes?

Thai BLs.

That’s right. I was experiencing a particularly dark depressive episode a couple of years ago and I was watching Love In The Air each week, and you know what I found myself saying? “Well I can’t kill myself yet, I need to see how Love In The Air ends!” And then Between Us started airing just as Love In The Air wrapped up and it became, “well I can’t kill myself yet, I need to see what happens to Win and Team!!” And these seemingly insignificant shows became very significant to me because it was their tiny rays of sunlight that gave me the light I needed to keep moving forward, even though all I wanted to do was fade into the darkness.

We all know the “big” reasons to hang on. We’re always told, “it gets better” or to think of our family, our friends, our future selves. But when we’re struggling, sometimes these reasons can seem too big to hold onto and they slip away from us. So often, it’s the little things that help get us through. A song, a book series, a hobby… in my case, it was the Thai BLs Between Us and Love In The Air. Silly as they may seem, their impact on my life has been unforgettable.

I guess what I’m trying to say is this: if you’re struggling and looking for a reason to hang on, the reason can be as small as waiting for the next episode of your favourite BL to air. If it brings you happiness and gives you a reason to keep going, hold onto it. It will get better. I promise. But while you’re struggling and fighting, find solace and peace wherever you can. Lay your head where you find comfort. And sometimes, that comfort can come in the shape of a fluffy little BL.

These beautiful dumb dumbs literally saved my life

it's been said before and i'm sure said better than i can phrase it. but really, really - if you like making "i'm going to kill myself" jokes, please try switching to being ironically conceited instead.

anytime something goes wrong, say things like "ah well at least i'm beautiful and charming and everyone loves me." when you forget something, try "my big huge brain is so smart and thinking about too many other very big wizardly thoughts you wouldn't even understand." when you're frustrated by one of your symptoms, start talking like you're in My Immortal. "Life has come for me but my eyes are beautiful pools of gorgeous fire and my hair is amazing. I stuck my middle finger up at life and told it to fuck off and it did."

just... try it for a month or two. try saying the most absurdly self-congratulatory shit you can think of.

i know it's tempting to make suicide or self-harm jokes. and for me at least, a decade ago (!) when someone suggested i stop making those kinds of jokes, i was kind of at a loss for what to replace them with. i wanted to make light of these moments, but genuinely (at the time) my first thought really was suicidal ideation. there was a part of me that even felt like ... i was kind of "making light" of that voice. that if i could say i want to die lol, it would help take the sting out of that genuine (albeit passive) desire. like i could turn my illness into a joke.

when i started complimenting myself instead, it felt awkward and stupid. it felt really, really ironic. what i was actually saying was nobody would ever think this stuff about me, that's what makes it so fucking funny.

but. the effect was immediate. first thing i noticed was the people around me. when i dropped a glass and said ah my skin is too beautiful and sleek the glass has swooned and broken for me, other people were suddenly overjoyed to jump in with the joke. rather than making an awkward moment, we'd both start cracking up. ah princess sleek hands, i've heard of you.

i was 19. i hadn't noticed i'd been making others tense when i said i want it all to end. i know now that it's incredibly hard to know how to walk that moment - do you talk to them about your concern? do you potentially make them uncomfortable by asking if they're okay? do you ignore the situation? do you help them pick up the glass, or do they need to do it by themselves? are they genuinely made suicidal over this small moment? and most importantly, how do you - without professional training or supplies - actually help?

most people want to help you pick up the glass in your life, they just have no fucking idea how to do it. they don't want to make anything worse. they don't want to make assumptions about you. they love you, they're scared for you - and being scared makes people kind of freeze up. it's not because they don't love you. it's because they do.

now when something bad happens, my first thought is how can i make a stupid joke about this. it isn't my brain saying you're a dumb fucking bitch. i spend more time laughing. i spend more time being gentle with myself. i spend more time feeling good.

and the thing is - what's kind of funny - is that you'd be surprised by how many people agree with you. the first time i said i'm too pretty to understand that, someone else said to be fair you're the prettiest person in this room. i promise - you really don't know how kindly your friends see you. but they love you for a reason. they sort of reverse-velveteen-rabbit you. your weird and ugly spots fade away and you just become... the love they want to give you.

go love yourself ironically. the worst thing that happens is that you end up tricking your reflection into actually loving you.

You don't want to see me suffer (it's not entertaining).

AJR, The Worlds Smallest Violin // Anne Sexton, The Fury of Rainstorms // Chelsea Martin, MacDonalds is Impossible // Keaton Henson, On Touring // Neil Hilbron, You Can’t Be Depressed // Pat Barker, The Silence of the Girls // Patrick Roche, Every Forty Seconds // Wilfred Owen, Inspection // Rudy Franscisco, When People Ask Me How I’m Doing // Meghan Markle. 

ALL OF THESE REQUIRE GETTING OUT OF BED

🛁😟🌿

Word count: 3.2k

Caregory: angst, smut

Warnings: depression, depressed reader, toxic relationships, someone needed to be an asshole in this so Tsukki is, kind of toxic Akaashi too, smoking, choking, cigarette burns.

Summary: Akaashi is always there to put you back together, granting your every wish. Even when you leave him without any message and disappear for two months. You could say that he has a soft spot for you

City of stars, are you shining just for him tonight? That’s what Akaashi is wondering. The stars are surprisingly bright tonight, as if knowing that now is when he needs their comfort the most.

Akaashi is mindlessly watching some stupid, mind-numbing late night program on his tv, trying to forget about the manga he has to finish editing until next week and… Other things.

The half-smoked mint cigarette hangs from his lips as the man lets out a sigh. He’s not anxious. Therapy and maturing has helped him calm his overthinking and anxieties a bit. He’s good at his job; he’ll manage to meet the deadline. However, other things cloud his mind and he’s not as good with that as he is at his job.

Akaashi’s phone, which was carelessly left somewhere in the kitchen, rings. He inhales the final breath of minty smoke and puts out the cigarette on the heart-shaped ashtray you had gifted him a long time ago. Akaashi finally stood up, lazily strolling to the kitchen, the light of his phone lighting up the big room in dim blue light. He picks it up and swipes "accept" without looking at the contact name. Probably Bokuto, wanting to hangout soon. Or maybe his boss, reminding about his deadline, or…

Keiji freezes on the spot when he hears your voice. It’s so quiet and weak that he thinks one breath from him will take it all away and he’ll wake up from a dream.

"’Kaashi… Keiji… Keiji, It’s bad again," you whisper and his heart breaks in real time; the pieces left from the last time you broke it, shattering into even smaller ones. Two months without seeing you. Two months without hearing from you. Two months without smelling your perfume, without touching your skin and hearing your voice. Your laugh… Well, he hasn’t heard that eternal sound for even longer. Two months, eight weeks, fifty six days, one thousand three hundred forty four hours since you had left him for another man.

Tsukishima Kei swept you away alongside Akaashi’s will to do anything but work until he almost passed out. You ghosted everyone from your life, it wasn’t only Akaashi. Last thing anyone heard about you — your friend Dina told Bokuto that you moved in with a "tall, blonde man". And now there you were again. Alive and calling him. Asking him to make everything better like he always used to. To come and take the pain away, even just for a minute. It hurt to breathe but just hearing your voice made the shards left of his heart pull closer together. Some selfish part of him wanted to hang up. To tell you to go find Tsukishima and fuck off. His rational part was horrified, that thoughts like that would cross his mind. He didn’t particularly dislike Tsukishima during high school days, damn, even liked the guy, but he couldn’t forgive him for doing this. For sweeping you away from him.

"You at your old place?" Keiji manages to ask.

"Y-yeah," there’s a sniffle and something clutters to the floor. Fuck, thag can’t be good.

"Okay, darling, okay. I’ll be at your place real soon, yeah? Unlock the door for me, ‘kay?

He doesn’t wait for your answer. He’s slipping his shoes on, grabbing his long, black coat and dashing out the door. His body remembers the routine way more than he thought it would. Maybe all those moments Akaashi rushed to you after a single phone call asking him to come, did that to a person.

He didn’t have the time to think that through. He was in his car, speeding through the busy streets of the city just to get to you. The hope of seeing your face again numbed most of the pain —the loss of you caused.

He’s at your door in what seems like a minute. The door is already unlocked so he just walks in. The smell of your home fills his senses and it’s as if his head clears. Oh, how he missed this. His coat is now hung up, shoes put away and he’s stepping in the tiny living room. There’s a lump of colorful blankets and you’re somewhere underneath. A step away. Real and alive. Real, alive and breathing — wanting him to put you back together. To make you feel better, to make you feel like you’re alive once again.

“Y/N, darling, I’m here,” the words come out in the softest voice he can manage and your head lifts up. Your hair’s a mess, eyes empty and dull. He can’t stand to see you like this, pain searing through his whole body. Some fucked up part of him is glad to see how much you need him though.

“Keiji, need you,” you whimper, “Want you to fuck the sadness out of me.”

It’s how it always went. Like a dance you both knew the steps to, perfectly well — he comes over, you guys fuck, he bruises you up a bit since you always beg him so prettily and then he’s there to pick up the pieces — listen to your ranting, asking you if you’ve been keeping up with drinking your meds and making sure you have something to eat.

He’s always there. And he would always be, no matter how much it hurt him to.

He takes a careful step towards you, lifting you up from your fluffy hiding place. You’re in his lap not even a moment later, head too heavy to hold, buried in his neck. You give it a little peck and his whole body burns. It’s like he’s some junkie going through withdrawal and your touch is the drug he so desperately craves. He’s turning his face towards your’s, slightly chapped lips kissing away at every millimeter of skin he can reach. It’s messy, it’s passionate and Akaashi doesn’t even notice the tears freely flowing down his face. A shuddering breath leaves his lips. Oh, how much he needed this.

“Keiji, need you, please,” you sigh in between kisses, one hand pawing at his pant-clad crotch. You have trouble keeping yourself up, but the need to be fucked until your brain is unable to make coherent thoughts makes the task easier.

“Yeah, yeah, need you too, pretty girl. Need to touch you,” he moans when he takes off your huge hoodie and sees that you’re not wearing anything underneath, nipples perking up at the temperature of the room. Akaashi’s hand, the one not holding onto you, paws at your breasts, squeezing until you gasp. Is it fucked up that he wants to cause you pain? You asked for it everytime you asked Akaashi to fuck you, but now he craved that himself. He craved the teary look in your eyes, the way you hit his chest when it got a little too much.

After letting himself indulge for a few moments, he lays you down on the couch, climbing on top of you, gently helping you get out of your sleep shorts and simple black panties. Cute, real cute. Akaashi missed you so much he couldn’t put it into words.

“Spread your legs for me, pretty girl,” he murmured, your legs instantly parting. Good, you haven’t forgot how you’re supposed to act. Your hands almost naturally find their place on Akaashi’s shoulders and his fingers are reaching for your pussy almost instantly. One finger circling the clit, the other easing into your hole. Tight, still so fucking tight. Akaashi groaned.

Tsukishima couldn’t fuck you as well as he could, right?

Keiji didn’t let himself overthink it. This moment was about you two; there was no space for the ‘third one’.

His second finger bullies it’s way alongside the first one and a third one joins next. It takes a while to find the spongy spot he used to be so familiar with. It doesn’t take long before you’re coming undone, pushing away at his clothed, hard chest from the overstimulation of Akaashi helping you ride out your orgasm.He’s smiling. That self-satisfied grin you know so well.

“Please, take off your clothes, Keiji, it’s uncomfortable,” you squirm under his gunmetal gaze and he obeys.

A single raise of your hand and he’s doing everything you ask for. It was always this way. His clothes are discarded on the dirty floor, littered with bottles of water and empty chips packets. He’s back to his position, careful not to let any of his weight fall on you. You admire him. Those big, doe-like yet still dull like before, taking in every detail of his body; from his lean physique, to his shoulder-length wavy raven hair and lithe fingers, still soiled with your clear juices. Your cheeks burn at the sight.

Akaashi’s fingers come near your mouth and you obediently part your lips, eager to take what he provides. He knows better, after all. He knows how to fix you. You clean off his slender fingers and Akaashi can’t help it - cloud-grey eyes narrowing as he pushes his digits deeper, digging until you’re gagging and only letting up when tears light up your beautiful eyes. When he finally pulls them out, he absentmindedly wipes them off on your skin. You shiver at the warm sensation and close your eyes.

Keiji pulls out his dick and it’s as pretty as he is, not too long, nor too thick, but still a lot to take; beautiful, flushed tip already leaking precum when the black-haired man gives it a few strokes. Your mouth parts to let out long breaths.

“Everything okay, sweetheart?” he asks, voice calm and collected, the complete opposite of you right now.

“Yeah, just haven’t- haven’t been with you for so long,” you shiver. Akaashi can’t help but seethe, remembering that you were with another man. Two whole damn months.

He lines up his cock with your hole and just slams it in with one smooth motion. Everything is white for a moment, you’re unable to see from the pleasure-filled pain. His cock slammed into your cervix, but he’s nice enough to let you get used to his length. You keen, not sure what you want Akaashi to do right now when the veins adorning his dick create mind-numbing friction. One of Keiji’s hands ghosts your neck, gently squeezing it and his gaze softens when you lean into his touch, craving to be hurt.

“I’m gonna move, sweet girl,” he warns you, but doesn’t give you time to think of an answer — Keiji is slamming into your tiny pussy, letting his head lean back. He’s blissed by the pleasure, fucking his fist for two months just wasn’t the same. Not even close. Pretty moans leave Keiji’s perfect lips, no matter how much he tries to suppress them. You’re just laying there, taking it, eyes cloudy and half-lidded. Mind probably already numb. Silly little thing.

“Keiji… Keiji, love,” the pet name rings in his head, the huge hand still wrapped around your willing neck squeezes. Hard. The silver ring wrapped around one of his fingers digs into your soft skin. You’re killing him. Giving him just enough to let the hurtful memories flow. It doesn’t seem to bother you.

Face content and calm, “Can you, can you burn me, please?”

You’re as sweet as ever. As if nothing ever happened. As if he’s responsible for making you feel better. Fuck. He knows he is.

“Yeah? You want me to burn you? My girl is a little fucking masochist?” it’s easy to slip into his degrading persona. Akaashi knows how much you love that. You don’t crave praise. Don’t want to be called pretty, don’t want nice things. You want temporary pain, to forget the real one that might never really go away.

You dumbly nod at Akaashi’s words, mind not putting two and two together, his cock still pounding away at your pussy, uncaring of your own pleasure. Keiji pulls out and you whine, hands automatically reaching for him, as if he would ever leave, now that he got you back.

The tall man finds a pack of mint cigarettes, left in the pocket of his black jeans. There’s a tiny daisy embroidery on the pocket done by you a long time ago. When you still had the energy to do anything. When he didn’t have to beg you to live another damn day.

Cigarette finds its way to the man’s lips and he quickly lights it up. You sigh happily, when Keiji slides his cock back into you, finally letting his fingers massage your clit. You let out a shuddered moan, pleasure burning all thoughts away.

“Ah, you’re so good to me, Keiji. So good, ah,” and with a particularly harsh thrust, the pleasure building in your lower belly snaps and you’re coming, creaming around his lengthy cock and as white hot pain surges through your whole body. Akaashi presses the hot end of the cigarette between your perfect tits. You scream, in pain and in pleasure, mumbles of “please” and garbles of his name praying for something. Something to take the pain away? Something to hurt you more?

Akaashi gives into his temptations, taking a long drag of the smoke, marking up your tits a few more times, letting you grab his shoulders and pull him close, crying away at his firm chest.

“Thank you- ah! Thank you so much, Keiji,” you breathe out and that’s all it takes for him to finish.

Your whole body turns warm as your inner walls are painted white. You’re so full. And so obedient to him. What a good girl you still are. It’s as if nothing has changed. You’re Akaashi’s again and everything falls back into place. Everything is where it’s supposed to be. You’re - in Akaashi’s arms, and Tsukishima somewhere damn far away.

You lay like this for a while - Keiji’s body on top of yours, everything sweaty and sticky, still keeping his body weight from crashing down on your tired body. He dresses up and makes you take a bath then; washing your hair for you, using a comforting vanilla smell body wash to clean your limp body next.

He can’t help but admire the marks he’s left. It’s a sign that you’re his. And he is yours. Eternally, forever. And no one can change that. No one knows how to help you, like he does.

Keiji dresses you in comfortable clothes and helps you get onto the bed after changing the sheets before laying you down. Tch, he bet that Tsukishima let you lay in messy sheets, never once changing them. Akaashi scolds himself. So much for not overthinking, so much for maturing. He was as insecure as he was in his teenage years, just learned to mask it better.

You pull Akaashi towards you, stopping his thoughts. He complies, undressing until he’s in his shirt and boxers, laying down beside you and pulling you close to himself, holding your body tight.

“I want to talk to you,” you mumble, still turned away from him with your back to his chest.

“I’m listening, baby.”

"You wanted me to feel better and I… Didn’t particularly want to get better. I guess- I guess the sadness, rash mania-driven decisions and my dependency on others has become such a big part of me that I thought…I thought that I would be empty without it."

"You wouldn’t." he interrupts your rant, pulling your shaking hands into his, gently rubbing your knuckles in an attempt to calm you down a bit.

You lift up your face to catch his eyes. Akaashi is already looking, "What?"

"You wouldn’t be empty, Y/N. The girl I met at high school… You were happy back then. You were cheerful, a bit loud and could make anyone like you. And even if you," he gently turns you towards him and caresses your face when you want to look away in shame, "think that you’re beyond fixing, or empty without your illness, you’re just wrong. I still see those traits in you. How you’re still you in the way you cheer up your friends. How you’re still you when even the delivery drivers seem to instantly like you and how you’re still you in understanding that it’s not bad to ask for help when you need it."

You don’t answer him. Somewhere deep in your mind, you know Akaashi is right. You know that he isn’t just trying to fix you to his liking, you know he doesn’t want you for the sex, despite how many times Tsukishima made you believe that. You bury your face in Akaashi’s neck and let his warmth embrace your limp and tired body.

"He told me that you wanted to make me into the version of myself that you wanted," you confess, quietly murmuring the words against the skin of his neck and Akaashi’s hands embrace you tighter. He can’t get mad now, but damn is it hard to keep his composure, "Keiji, he told me that you only wanted to fuck me ‘cause girls like me were compliant and easy to fuck," words flow out freely as you finally let go all the pent up sadness, confusion and a web of lies that you’re still so deeply tangled in, "He- he told me that you stayed with me because I was easy to hurt and that guys like you- prefered girls like me. And he let me skip taking my medicine. He said it was my choice and that he’s not gonna make me be happy and how he liked me the way I was-“ your voice breaks. You can’t say any more words.

It takes all of Akaashi’s strength to not get and go to Tsukishima’s place. Beat him up until the fire under his skin no longer burned, until he felt satisfied with the results, until he knew that you were out of the reach of the blonde’s manipulations and him. Akaashi Keiji is not a violent man, but when he sees you more fragile and broken than you were before, just because of one man and his lies, he can’t help it.

“It’s not your fault.” Akaashi kisses your face, “I know you think it is, but it isn’t. We’re gonna get you back on your medicine and you’ll go to that- that therapist downtown that you said helped you, yeah? We’re gonna get through this together. I’m always with you. I’ll help you. And… I love you, Y/N,” the confession rings into the stuffy silence of the small bedroom and you freeze in his arms.

Your lifeless eyes reach the open window. Your apartment is on the highest floor with light pollution not quite reaching it. The stars are clearly visible. Hundreds of thousands of little lights scattered across the night sky. It’s beautiful.

"The sky is so beautiful tonight, Keiji…" your voice is barely above a whisper, "A graveyard of stars."

Yes, the stars must really be shining for him tonight. He falls asleep with the thought of brighter tomorrows and a better future.

I’m happy. I don’t want to die.

There are so many things i want to do. I want to talk to my friend, watch shows with mom, play games with dad&my sibling. I want to keep hanging out with my cat and reading&writing fanfiction and watching cartoons and animes.

But i’m 16 and haven’t been to school in 3 years. I won’t be able to graduate, i won’t be able to get a job, i won’t be able to live on my own. I’ll just be a burden to my mom or whoever has to take care of me.

If i had continued going to school, i might have had a future. But if i hadn’t stopped, i never would’ve gotten better and would probably be dead by now.

The price for my happiness was my future, apparently.

105 Comfort Prompts

As usual, my requests and asks are open! if you do request, no smut please :)

TW: PANIC ATTACK, ANXIETY, DEPRESSION. ALCOHOL MENTION. CHEATING MENTION.

DIALOGUE: 

GIVING COMFORT:

“Hey, tell me what’s wrong?”  

“I’m here for you.”

“It’s going to be okay.” 

“Are you all right?” 

“You’ll be okay, I promise.” 

“What’s going on?” 

“Come here, let me hold you.” 

“Please, don’t cry.” 

“I have you.” 

“Take a deep breath.” 

“Tell me what you’re feeling.” 

“I’ll take care of it, don’t worry.” 

“I won’t leave.” 

“Why don’t we go on a drive?” 

“Let it out.” 

“Everybody makes mistakes.” 

“You’re all right.” 

“Shh, shh, it’s okay.” 

“Can I hold you?” 

“Do you-- can I-- do you want to be held?” 

“Do you want solutions, or comfort?” 

“I have chocolate/flowers?” 

“Do you want to watch a movie with me?” 

“Tell me what I can do for you.” 

“...Who do I need to punch?”

 “Come on, breathe with me.”

“You don’t have to be perfect.”

“You’re perfect just the way you are.”

“How can I help you?”

“Can I touch you?”

“Where does it hurt?”

“You’re allowed to be weak, you know.”

“You have this.”

“You’re never a burden.”

“You aren’t weak.”

“We’ll get through this.”

“Relax, I got you.”

“Please, just open up. I don’t want to leave you alone.” 

“They’re not going to get to you, I promise.” 

“Follow my breaths.” 

NEEDING COMFORT:

“This is stupid--I’m stupid.”

“‘M so weak.”

“I’m sorry I’m not strong enough.”

“I’m a burden, aren’t I?”

“I-- please, help.”

“I can’t breathe, I don’t know what to do-- I can’t--“

“I feel lightheaded.”

“I’m sorry. We were supposed to have fun today.”

“I’m getting your shirt wet...”

“Are you sure this is okay?”

“I should be stronger.”

“I don’t want to get out of bed today.”

“Hold me, please.”

“Why won’t you let me apologize?”

“Thank you for this.”

“I feel safe with you.”

“...You bought me chocolate/flowers?”

“Did you really drive all this way just for me? It’s two in the morning.”

“Is that my comfort movie?”

“You came all this way? For me? 

“I’m not worth the time you spent coming over here.” 

“Please, leave. I’m--” 

“...Why are you here?” 

“My problems are mine, I don’t want to be a burden on you.”  

“You’re too nice to me.”

“I’m a mess…” 

“I’m broken, don’t you understand?” 

“It’s raining. You should be inside. I’m fine.” 

"I'm sorry."

"Why can't you understand? You're too good for me!"

"I can't do this. I can't-- I can't-- I can't--"

"Just shut up! I'm not as good as you say I am!"

"Why do you care so much?"

"Am I really worth it?"

"Thank you for being here."

"I thought I'd be alone today after what happened... thank you."

"You don't know how much I appreciate you."

"Do I really mean that much to you?"

"Stop banging on my door!"

"I love you."

SCENARIOS

Your lover isn't feeling well, and even though it's probably dangerous to drive this late at night, you have to make sure they're all right.

Head between their knees, your lover has their back against the wall, and you're by their side, and trying to help them through whatever is troubling them.

Your best friend's lover broke up with them, and despite having no idea, you supply them with snacks and horrendous movies. At least they smiled at the end of it all.

Trying to keep a smile on your face through the weight of the world to not worry your lover. They figure it out anyway.

Standing in front of a mirror, hands against the counter, with tears dripping down your cheeks, struggling to get everything under control. Everything’s going well until your lover cracks the door open and asks if everything’s okay. It isn’t.

Seeing your lover break down over work/school/family, and trying to comfort them to the best of your abilities, heart breaking with every sob out of their lips. 

Struggling to sleep in you and your lover’s shared bed because they’re working in the living room/kitchen/their office and the bed feels far too cold and empty. Seeking their comfort, you curl up on their lap/beside them/around them. 

Knowing from the moment they said good morning that something was wrong, and trying to schedule your day to spend the most time with them; arms around their neck, waist, shoulders, to provide comfort.

Your lover’s back against your chest, you curled around them. Every agitated breath and erratic heartbeat pulsing through your skin, but slowly, it starts to fall over time. 

Your back against your lover’s chest, their slow heartbeat stark against your stressed one. Gently, the rise and fall of their chest lull you back to safety. 

Sitting in the car, your head against the headrest and mind spinning, but your lover’s hand firm against your thigh keeps you grounded to reality. 

Your ex is trying to embarrass you in public, but your lover steps in as a shield, eyes ablaze in a fury.

Your head against your lover's chest, tears drenching their shirt, they don't care about the wet fabric and just rub your back.

Lungs squeezed to death, you try to breathe through the overwhelming suffocation on your shoulders. Patiently, your lover holds your hands and squeezes them in time with their breaths, eyes gentle.

Your lover made a small/big mistake and they can’t get it out of their head. To everyone else, it was just a small mishap, so you spend a few minutes/an hour/the rest of the night holding and comforting them.

Done with the feeling of being an burden, you try to push away from your lover's comfort, only for them to drag you back into a firm hold.

Something horrible happened, but your lover won't answer the phone/any texts. Standing outside of your door, you threaten to start throwing rocks at their windows/slamming on their door if they don't give any proof that they're all right.

You found your lover on a cold metal bench, hair and clothing drenched, tears pooling down their cheeks. Instead of asking what's wrong, you put your jacket over their shoulders and open up an umbrella.

Your lover's burning up and for some reason keeps bursting into tears at the smallest things. You're a little bewildered, but stay near them all the same.

After an all-nighter, your lover's brain is scrambled, and they keep shedding tears when they think nobody's looking. After coaxing them into your arms, you curl into one another on the couch.

Your lover wakes up to you gasping for air, eyes wide as you just saw horrors beyond your own comprehension. They sling an arm around your waist and pull you close, face tucked against your neck. 

Underneath the blankets, you refuse to get out of bed. Despite feeling horrible about yourself, your lover refuses to leave you be and makes you breakfast, all with a gentle smile.

Your best friend's spouse cheated on them right before valentines day, so as their best friend, you spend the rest of the night trash-talking over bad rom-coms.

Your lover right beside you, comforting you as you weren't able to get the job you wanted/into the university you applied to. Their encouragement makes one more attempt seem not so bad.

Your best friend's drunk and wailing, and you're trying to both comfort them and stop them from climbing into the washing machine.

she could hear it , the sound of his heart overflowing and his head filled with static. digits gently brush through his hair as he laid his head down upon her lap. words flow from his mouth , confessing guilt and uncertainty . . . a hope that's burning out. however words unsaid , tsutako had stopped . . . digits weave through hair before both hands reach down to position his head to look up at her. though she couldn't see , head tilts down as his breathing was faint “   oyakata-sama does not see you as a seat filler giyu ---- and whether or not we believe we deserve to live or die . . . or how unfair life can be ----   ” something tsutako knew so well. losing the love of her life and her sight , tsutako could no longer see the beauty that life had to offer . . . not that she could think of one.

overwhelmed , his heart bore her previous state . . . health deteriorated at times in the past but urokodaki - san reminded her that she still had someone important in her life. a life she vowed to always be there for . . . tsutako leaned forward , kissing his forehead. “   sabito and i both value your life. i would not change a thing if the gods had asked --- we all go through times of doubt. there are days where i feel exhausted and wonder if my life was worth it but i knew someone depended on me , just like they depend on you.   ” a young boy , one she could imagine . . . a smile warm like the sun “   will you be able to face sabito ? --- god forbid your life comes to an end so soon . . . i'd like for my precious brother to smile without such a heavy weight on his shoulder.   ”

( will you be able to rest in your grave knowing you did everything possible to the very end. )

﹆⋆ cont. giyu tomioka

I can't do it anymore - J.M.

Jj Maybank x F!reader

Summary: When the reader is going through her hardest time Jj tries his best to help her

WARNINGS: Depression, suicidal thoughts/talks about suicide,

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readers pov-

I can't do it anymore, I should just end it all just like they all old me I should before I left school

i'm just so tired, so fucking tired

the cuts on my body don't phase me anymore, I'd rather be dead

please, please

please lord just kill me.

I sit in the shower in my clothes the water soaking through I made it as cold as it could go but I don't feel it, I'm numb

"Y/N?"

I hear him, I don't want to it'll only make me feel worst for thinking these things

the door opens and I don't move

"Y/N" he whispers, I've broken him

I'm a monster, I don't deserve him

he turns the water of and that's when I realize im crying but my eyes still don't move from the wall

I feel the towel go around me as he picks me up

"I'm gonna change you baby." he whispers again

that's when I move, I shake my head

"please" my voice is horse and broken

"I don't deserve it"

he stares at me before pulling me into him

"please," I sob

"Just kill me, please"

he's cradling back and forth and It's all to much, I break sobbing into him

"it's okay, I'm here angel, and I'm not going anywhere I swear."

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its short and sweet except not all that sweet

If you ever need to talk im here ❤︎

I will never agree with the things Rafe has done, but I get it. Naw, I never attacked anyone though, just had really violent dreams about people. I'm a crier. My "secret" shame.

I grew up in a house where when I asked for help, I was told I didn't need it. Same with my brother. It took him snapping to get help, and did he get it for more than a weekend? No. He didn't. And I'm just now getting help that I need as an adult without the help of my family. And I even heard the disappointment in my mother's voice when I mentioned I'm in therapy now.

I mean y'all, my grandma told me I had no reason to be depressed and that was literally after viewing my dad's dead body. So, you can imagine how much I relate.

Being told to suck it up. Being told "I'll give you something to cry about." Being hit for showing emotions that are considered over the top or considered back-talk.

Yeah, I fucking get it. I'm getting too deep on this blog, I'm not sorry for it either.

i feel like i am drowning. my house is a wreck, worse than it has ever been. i try so hard not to get off work and sleep all afternoon but i do it everyday anyways. i'm gaining weight. i'm so fucking lonely and miserable.

i fucking hate depression. i hate trauma. i hate that i am trying so hard and i can't seem to get a fucking grip.

it's like i'm stuck in a rip current and i'm swimming, but i'm stuck and I am just slowly getting more and more tired. i'm drowning.

i'm broke. i'm stuck in this shitty town. i'm scared to live here now (florida) and i cannot afford to move. i've accomplished nothing in the 34 years i've been alive.

i want to live, desperately, i do. but fuck, if it's going to be like this until i die...i cannot fathom that.

and i don't even have god or prayer to comfort me anymore because it's bullshit. i know it is and i truly don't believe anymore. and the fact that i've been deconstructing and deconverting...falling back on that would be a crutch.

fuck.

requested by waitwaitwaitno

I ain't too good at expressing stuff unless it's with my body.

Fuck.

Blitz understood that. He understood that far, far too well. The words hit like blows.

When Angel knelt so as not to loom over him, it had quieted him. He went still, watching him, on the verge of breaking--but only on the verge. Blitz didn't know what it was about this guy that made him so easy to open up to--maybe a sense of shared suffering? That they had enough in common, they could understand? Because Angel sure as fuck seemed to immediately get it, to get everything Blitz said, even the shit he only halfway explained.

The imp stepped in closer, trusting him.

He hated this. Hated crying in front of anyone. As far as imps went, Blitz was peak masculinity and beauty rolled into one; he wasn't the type who was supposed to cry. He shouldn't be broken. He shouldn't be so deeply fucking flawed. But he was, and he hated it, and was ashamed of it, ashamed of so much--

Only, when Angel looked at him like he understood? The shame didn't cut quite as deeply.

"Yeah," Blitz agreed, nodding. He swallowed hard and wiped quickly at his eyes, trying to put on a bright smile. "Yeah, you can fucking kiss me."

It was probably safer for both of them if they communicated through the physical, if they danced around the truth. Because while Angel cared about what happened to him, Blitz didn't. If he died, he died. He'd be away from all of this. He'd be free. He wouldn't be trapped anymore, he wouldn't have to think or feel, he could just be free, and so he was willing, absolutely willing, to risk death if he could help his friend. If Valentino needed an ass-beating, if that would get him to lighten up on Angel? It was worth risking everything for--because really, what was there to lose?

I would risk everything to help you, Blitz thought, golden eyes burning fiercely as he studied this friend he had never expected, never looked for. You're worth it. And if in the end we were both free? Even if that meant I couldn't see you anymore? That would be worth it, too.

Someday, one of them was going to be happy. He clenched his fists, determining that. Someday. And it was going to be Angel. Whatever it took, Blitz was going to find a way to help him.

"Yeah, but the fuckin' difference is yeh' could die, Blitz!" His voice strained, not wanting to interrupt the other, but that was it, wasn't it? If Blitzo were to die, then Angel didn't know what would happen. He didn't know what happened if hellborns, or imps, or goetia, or anyone else that wasn't a sinner were to actively die in Hell. He could double die, sure, and he would cease to exist. Or as far as they knew. But he could be killed, and still regenerate. With few exceptions.

He wanted to go off about this, but he was floored by what the imp was saying to him. He had known a lot about Blitzo since they had first met, but there were still things neither of them had shared with the other. While Angel had yet to explain that Valentino literally beat the ever-loving shit out of him, Blitzo had not mentioned this very important piece of his life. Leaving Angel absolutely stunned, mismatched hues wide.

"Please don't march in and beat the shit out of Val." He mumbled, going down to his knees in front of the other. He knew there was the whole don't talk to short people this way blah blah bullshit, but he wanted to be on Blitz' level for this. He wanted to meet him eye to eye, and tell him he understood. Sitting his butt back on folded legs, he opened his mouth, ready to say that he got it, that he was there for him, that he wasn't going -

"Can ah' kiss yeh'?" Well damn, that....that wasn't in the plan. He hadn't had much of a plan to begin with, but that had blurted out far too easily, blushing slightly and glancing away. "Ah' mean, ah' get if yeh' don't wanna, but all of that....ah' get it. Ah' understand it. Ah' empathize with it. Ah' ain't too good at expressin' stuff unless it's wit' mah' body, but right now ah' just....ah' really wanna just cup yeh' face and kiss yeh'...."

I am so tired of Mia. My journey stated last year and continue until now. Purging is tiring and hurtful, my thorough is sorrow and my body fells sick. I want Ana so bad.

Today I was able to fast for 17 and a half hours. This is not enough. I need to lose the weight. I hope that now( my first meal) won’t be a binge and purge type. Hope to be around 800kcals today. Stay motivated guys.