#depression is a bitch

[sygneth]

did you notice how dark it's gotten here?

[answer2jeff]

Life Imitates Art —Carmen Berzatto.

PART 1/2.

warnings: fluff. painter!reader x roommate!carmen. unestablished relationships. clunky overly detailed writing. carmy being concerned. angsty. mutual pinning. (reader is lowkey mentally unstable like Carmen. i can't write 100% healthy relationships i'm sorry!!!)

a/n: sorry i disappeared and didn't write for weeks and decided to randomly drop this!

You needed inspiration.

With your last three pieces bought out from the French art gallery, L'art de L'amour, you hadn't touched your easel in days. Your brushes had gone dry, the paint clumping and staining every bristle. The lack of desire to make art felt like you hadn't seen the sun in 10 years.

You'd been ignoring this dreadful feeling with sleep.

Long day at the studio, the space filled with no one but younger, starving artists who wanted to admire your work for creative flow—but never wanting to know the real meaning behind every brush stroke, or why you used oil paints for specific pieces? Sleep.

The days fell shorter, the nights falling longer.

Even your roommate, a micromanager of his career, noticed.

It surprised you, possibly more than it should've. When you first moved into this apartment, you had every doubt in the world sharing a space would be enjoyable. For a while, you weren't sure if you could call yourselves "friends." Then again, living with a complete stranger—a man, no less, seemed impractical. But after a month or two, it was refreshing in a way. Carmen always cleaned up after himself, and was never opposed to splitting chores. There was no need to set specific boundaries. You felt respected, cared for. Every minute not overpowered by either of your desires to create were mostly spent with each other. It kept you sane.

You woke up to the sound of Carmen walking into the kitchen, cursing under his breath when he struggled to shut the door of your apartment behind him. Reluctantly, you dragged yourself out of bed, only to find that your bedroom door was wide open. You must've gone straight to bed after spending the entire evening trying and expectedly failing at "cleaning" up the apartment so Carmen wouldn't come home to a mess.

Bare feet pattered against the floorboards, the palm of your hand pressing into your tired eyes. You stretched your arms out, your t-shirt, who you weren't sure if it was yours or Carmen's, lifting up and showing just a sliver of your stomach over your grey sweatpants. The sunlight leaking through the windows blinded you.

"Oh, hey. You're up." A warm, welcoming voice greeted you, followed by the fridge being closed shut after restocking it with the necessities he picked up from Whole Foods.

You blinked to see Carmen hovered over the kitchen counter, clad in a navy-blue crewneck and gold chain dangling from his pale neck. His hands pried at a familiar brown wrapper. Blueberry muffins.

"Hey, yourself," you slurred, barely able to keep your eyes open as you hoisted yourself up onto the marble surface. You gazed down at him, grinning at his messy blonde curls.

Carmen smiled back, blue eyes admiring the sight of you: half asleep, your voice raspy while still having that airy cadence, your hair messier than it was the last time he willingly saw you—which he couldn't totally remember. He came home to the sight of your bedroom dimly lit by your bedside lamp.

"It's noon," he muttered, glancing from his phone on the counter, and back to you.

"Shit. Really?"

"Yeah. You've been sleeping a lot lately," he kept his stare on you as he opened the cabinet beside you, reminding you to 'watch your head' as he grabbed a ceramic plate.

"Isn't that a good thing?"

Your mind wandered to your exhibit. The thought of never having the ability to create such extraordinary work terrified you. So much that you hadn't even tried. It was almost embarrassing: Carmen seeing you like this. Rid of the one thing you convinced yourself you knew how to do.

"Not really."

You wanted to laugh. Maybe he just didn't get it.

If you could make even the painfully mundane into something more, than maybe you were more than just existing. Carmen was actually astounded by you and your work, even with the lack of knowledge in other art forms. Culinary was his calling, but for you? Oh, how he tried to grasp every concept you conveyed in your creative works. All in attempt to comprehend every thought in that pretty little head of yours.

Maybe he didn't understand as much as he wished, but maybe he didn't have to totally 'get it' to get you. Carmen found it hard to read people, their feelings, their true intentions, his whole life. But for once, he had confidence in his intoxicating marvel for everything you did. Even the way you covered your mouth when you laughed around everyone except him, or the way you styled your hair

"Well, it was for the sake of art," you smiled, extending your hand out to accept the plate that held the beautifully baked blueberry muffin. "Thanks for these, by the way."

"Pleasure. And I was actually gonna ask you about that. The—the art. Your art." Carmen joined you on the counter, his feet dangling beside yours. Your shoulders bumped past each other, a laugh coming from the both of you.

"Yeah? What about it?" You bit into your muffin, your gaze never leaving his.

"Well, I uh—I kinda wanted to visit your exhibit, y'know? Get to see it in its full form. I would've asked sooner but—"

"Yeah, yeah, it's okay. I know. Um—that'd be great. That's really nice of you, Carm."

A part of you wondered why he wanted to see it. But it wasn't all too surprising. Carmen took every chance he got to see your studio—even taking the initiative to drive you home from it on late nights, where you'd be endlessly analyzing your works even hours after Carmen would leave what was now, The Bear.

"Nah, I mean, I've just seen all that y'do and it's—" Carmen shrugged, struggling to find the right words to express his admiration without changing the atmosphere, "really cool. It's you, y'know?" His bottom lip was barred by his teeth and he looked into you for an answer.

You wished you could understand how the complexities of a kitchen; how it could clutch Carmen's attention to the point of no return, but you were happy for him. He was making something more of "mom and dads piece of shit," as he called it.

You never thought it was anything short of fucking awesome. He had all of this experience, drive, passion. Carmen felt more real, more rawly human to you than anything. Or anyone you'd met before.

He changed you. You were softer, calmer.

And still, you worried for him, dragging him out of the ever all consuming anxiety. Sometimes this was through watching X-file reruns on the couch. And every night, you'd move a little closer. By now, he'd keep an arm around you as your eyes became heavy and the room stirred with darkness and comfortable silence. He prayed to whatever ruled above him that you wouldn't notice, simultaneously wishing you'd want him to hold you gently like this. Even grocery store trips, something so simple, felt this way—which you missed out on this morning. You'd stand on the edge of the cart, your hands supporting your weight as Carmen pushed the handle with both hands, eyes scanning the isle for whatever obscure ingredient he needed for the dinner he planned on making you that night.

Every time he looked away, you stared. His beautifully carved nose, the way he bit the inside of his cheek and furrowed his blonde eyebrows when he tried to focus on making a decision. You were afraid, in a weird, animalistic way. You hadn't stopped yourself from relying on him. What if loving him this way made him pull away–or worse, you? You had to admit, having something this painfully simple in your life that made up for the chaos, was a little hard to accept.

It took everything in you to pretend you didn't notice him cleaning up the bathroom you shared whenever either of you left your belongings lying around. You wanted to convince yourself it was because he didn't want to come off as a slob, or influence you to be one yourself. But it always felt more like he was looking after you. Nothing that belonged to you would ever be misplaced again. Not with Carmen around.

You took pride in the little things. Your shoes placed next to each other near the front door, your toothbrushes leaning against each other with corresponding colored clips to cover their bristles. This was good. Change was good.

[arschgesicht6969]

I'll work on ship requests later,,, mental health is deteriorating drastically. I'll rant about my headcanons in a seperate post.

[adharastarlight]

nothing worse than going from getting straight As to ignoring work in favour of sleeping because being conscious makes you want to die

[zorosdimples]

a little hurt/comfort. angsty at first.

sadness.

it slowly seeps, at first. from your heart—always from that fragile spot beneath your breast—too soft to do any good. blue bleeds until it settles in your bones, clouds your mind, wearies your soul. until it wholly consumes.

it’s painful to watch. it doesn’t matter how many times he sees you crumble into dust; each and every instance is no less devastating than the last.

“it’s just one of those days,” you said in the morning, eyes devoid of the brightness that should have accompanied your smile. he knew something was wrong. but he can’t force you to share your burdens.

now, he is witnessing the life leave your body.

you close and curl in on yourself, shrinking, wishing to disappear before him. as if he would let you.

the warmth of his skin against yours makes your eyes sting. he can’t see the tears that sparkle as they wet his shirt—your face is buried in the soft fabric, fingers gripping the garment like a lifeline.

words of comfort light as air leave his lips, but most don’t reach your burning ears. the sentiment is what counts. and the hand that soothes up and down your back is all you can really focus on, anyway.

he never tells you to stop crying. he lets you have your way, shifting to pull you into his lap, palm moving up to smooth over your hair. his chest is damp with your sadness, aches in tune with your own.

how long you stay like that doesn’t matter; it always ends the same. you come up for air, face a mess (your words, not his). your gaze is puffy and your voice is thick as you whisper, “sorry.”

“don’t apologize,” is his reply, kisses dotted on your eyelids and cheeks and nose for good measure.

sadness comes and goes. but the two of you always remain.

[bobfloydsbabe]

i would like snuggles from bob floyd, please and thank you.

[ironicfury]

"Has your depression ever been so bad it bitch slapped you awake in the middle of the night, or is that just me?"

Donna Beneviento, probably

[classificationhell]

Would like to say I'm fine right now but that'd sound disingenuous so I'll just say I'm doing better.

[theaudacitytowrite]

Coming back after 2 weeks of nothing to spam y'alls feed a bit 🤙🏼

[dylan0n0n]

GUESS WHOS HERE!!!!!

[illustoryart]

TW: depression

Some nights are better.

Some are worse.

Please stay?

[ishouldsleepbut]

1, 20 and 29 for the music asks :)

have a fabulous day bestie <3

this was so fun to do so thank you thank you thank you for asking it!!! fair warning, my answer to the second one is pretty long. so proceed at your own risk and have a fabulous day/night as well <333

1. the red means i love you by mads buckley (1): this is the only song i consistently like with a color in the name and it was so hard to find T-T

2. deep breaths by sushi soucy (20): i have a lot of feelings about this song. basically, it's about this boy and he can't breathe. and no matter what anyone tells him or what he does, it doesn't get fixed. he still can't breathe and he ends up running away. for me, this song has two meanings: one relating to gender and the other to gifted kid syndrome stuff. for the gender part, it's all about how this kid is growing up in a world where everyone expects him to do this one "simple" thing. it's natural for everyone else, so why can't he do it? and except for breathing, he can do everything else fine. but people are only fixated on how he can't breathe. it's very real in the sense that if you're not cis, people will fixate on your gender like it's the most important thing and forget about everything else you do that isn't defined by that. also, it talks about how there's something wrong with his chest and maybe his lungs are "too big" or "too small". that has something to do with gender dysphoria, i think. i'm not really sure. as for the gifted kid part, it speaks about how eventually, "smart" kids (like moi) hit a wall where we can't just pass just on our own. we have to study, we have to put in effort. and most of us never learned how to do that since it came so easily. but now we have to and we can't deal with all that pressure and it quite literally feels like we can't breathe. yet everyone around us is still staring, expecting us to continuously and consistently keep reaching that high standard. we should able to breathe. we've done it before. but we can't.

3. can't help falling in love by elvis presley and ho hey by the lumineers (29): the first one is actually the lullaby that my parents used to sing to my sister when she was younger. they call it "her song" which i think is really cute and every time i hear it, i think of her. the second one is the one they would sing to me. though, i remember it specifically playing during my baths.

[adharastarlight]

i want to go back to being a baby when crying all day was considered normal and not a "psychiatric meltdown"

[ittybittyluci]

I just gotta ask!! Why do you think the reasons Lucifer's relationship with Lilith nosedived? How would YOU handle that aspect of the show were you involved in the show? Do you think Lilith is possessed by eve? Do you think he should/would get back with Lilith or try and move on, either just with Charlie or just being friends with her like divorced parents on good terms?

Oooo! Look at this, what a question! And I am happy to answer!

As for what I think the CANON reason for their relationship going sideways, honestly I have absolutely no idea. However, here’s how I would go about writing that (and it’s similar to how I touch on their relationship in my fic What Time Is It. It’s not centred around their relationship, just Luci, but they do have a small arc and I talk about their history)

Anyways. EHHEHEM!

————

To be honest, I think it would be extremely interesting to write a narrative where Luicfer became an uber depressed shut in, and Lilith didn’t know how to deal with it so she left. It would make a narrative of good character complexity that wouldn’t villainize either part, and would be pretty accurate to how poor mental can have a negative impact on relationships irl too. On one hand, Lucifer is hurting and needs support, but on the other hand they have a daughter and Lilith shouldn’t be forced to take care of him if it’s not what she signed up for.

I also like the idea of her just… not being able to fully grasp how much losing his home hurt him. The place she got cast out of was beautiful, sure, but the only other person was an asshole to her. Lucifer grew up w/ a family and people he cared about and wanted to do right by. She never understood how much that hurt, and this was never able to sympathize with him. Part of her views him as weak and sensitive, part of ehr feels BAD for thinking that because he’s her husband. In the end, however, she thought it would be best to take Charlie and leave because she didn’t want their daughter to see Luci so low.

Alternatively, Lucifer was so deep in his depression that he inadvertently ended up neglecting his duties as both a father AND a ruler, and pushing them on her. He loves his wife and child, but he spends most his time in his office. When he WAS near Lilith, he was clingy and desperate, and overly sensitive about everything because he was afraid that SHE was going to push him away too. Creating a sort of self-fulfilled prophecy for himself. However none of that is REALLY his fault because he grew up in a world where he was just supposed to be happy and perfect, where there was no real depression that anyone got help with, and the w as cats to a place where therapy was never really an option.

Ofc it didn’t start off that way, but as the millennia went by things got worse and worse until Lilith left, and Lucifer completely shut himself off from Hell, thinking his family (and any potential friends he MAY have made) were better off w/o him because he always managed to fuck things up.

Personally I think that’s one of the more compelling approaches the story could take. It just makes both of them feel more human, make u able to sympathize with them, and doesn’t completely villainize either of them. It’s just a messy, complicated situation that neither knew how to handle. But they both still love each other deeply. If they DID choose to go this route in the show, I think they COULD move forward if they just got better communication, and found someone to help them navigate the complexities of the relationship. Lilith would have to learn to be more understanding w/ Luci during his bad days, and Lucifer would have to work on himself to get better, and help take off some of the workload.

(As for what Lilith’s doing in heaven,.. honestly no real clue. There’s too much info we don’t know for me to make a guess that isn’t just COMPLETELY fanon. I kind of know how it would work into the above topic if I took some big leaps, but I don’t wanna get TOO outlandish w/ this post. So we’ll just leave that alone 😅)

Anyways, THANK YOU for this ask! It was so fun to write and speculate and PLEASE let me know what you think ;)

[zharizard666]

Hey

Lately I haven't felt good (had a couple accidents) so I haven't drawn anything at all.

I drew a quick Ness at a restaurant today, it looks a bit wonky but he's laughing.

[tarjapearce]

Hii you are so wonderfull

Hey nonny 🥹❤️.

Thank you so much dear.