#how I love my depression

[daardyrnitta]

I made a mistake today at work. I then proceeded to fix said mistake right away without assistance. Yet, the whole time and for the rest of the day, my only thought has been: I am horrible person who does not deserve to live. Oh, the wonders of depression…

[belovedroach]

Muriel learns the concept of movies.

have a barely polished self-indulgent comic.

[super-nova5045]

sylvia plath, todd anderson and virginia woolf (aka ACTUAL tortured poets) watching taylor “im breaking up with my boyfriend for his intense depression and blaming it on him, im dating a racist who enjoys watching woc being brutalized and harasses young woc artists, i sent my fans out on a hate train to attack a young woc actress for a line she had to say as part of her job to show how mentally ill her character was, im dating a maga supporter, i refuse to say anything about a current genocide despite being the most influential person in the world right now, i am a billionaire, i fly 13 minute flights and have the highest carbon emission of any celebrity, i am a known white feminist who only speaks about issues when it affects me and has constantly let my fans get away with extreme racism and even encouraged it by associating myself with known racists” swift call herself a tortured poet (her writing sounds like a bunch of thesaurus words slapped over gabba hanna and rupi kaur-esque poetry that was created purely as a trinket for an edgy pinterest board)

[lunargarden-art]

"you'll slay the ladies with your smile!" *proceeds to smile

[heymacy]

IAN GALLAGHER + his journey with bipolar disorder

╰┈➤ “At times, being bipolar can be an all-consuming challenge, requiring a lot of stamina and even more courage, so if you’re living with this illness and functioning at all, it’s something to be proud of, not ashamed of." - Carrie Fisher

[gunstellations]

a little family

[thatswhatsushesaid]

psa that the day there are no jgy stans left on tumblr dot com is the day i am dead

but rest assured i'll go to my grave exactly as i lived: obnoxiously proclaiming to everyone within earshot how great lianfang-zun is. narratively, metaphorically, spiritually. sexually, too, like why limit myself. i like to keep my options open

[royalarchivist]

Pac: Oh, Nenê... How cute... 🥺💕

After dying to an atomic creeper in a cave and stressing over potentially losing all his items, Pac returns home to set his spawn and receives a sweet surprise:

His cat falls asleep on top of him and purrs when he goes to bed :')

[suntails]

adrift

[junesprince]

soooo... when are we going to start talking more about yosuke's depression

[kori-senpai]

pov you're looking for the love of your life and hear rumors that he is terrorizing the Caribbean while sporting a new flag with a bleeding heart

[ryssbelle]

Some of y’all portray John Dory as so old and yeah he is older and you can do whatever you want forever as an artist or writer but he is 30 years old and yall draw him like his pushing 50

Mans got one foot in the grave and the others going in the second he his 36

Bonus:

[abyssalhuntersnerd]

Cunt. She's such a little cunt. What are all of those bows for? For Skadi to seductively take them off with her mouth? What's that pose too, to show off how damn cute you can be even though you are being full of chaos and cockiness? She looks like a little sailor. God I hate her so goddamn much. I want to kiss that stupid forehead of hers, I love her so much. I miss my fish.

[torchstelechos]

I do think its really important to remember that SY was suppose to be the villain character but its only because of his kindness and newly gained life that he didn’t end as one. In the very beginning of the story we learn that Peerless Cucumber Bro often left comments on how SJ didn’t get his dues and needed to be punished more, and only after he transmigrated did he acknowledge how awful of a death SJ had. He also made point to explain that he only read the book for LBH, which he noted to enjoy his decisive actions and deft ability to kill. Markedly, he liked his brutality and personality over the erotica that the majority of PIDW fans enjoyed. Peerless Cucumber Bro is someone who loves action and the ability to cut right to the chase, something that he does not do and most likely has difficulty with in his world.

Speaking of, it is something to note that Peerless Cucumber bro is rich. He had head chefs, he could pay for a 6k+ chapter book of erotica in 20 days, he noted that he could not understand SJs envy and ambition for power since he lives well, and he even noted to himself that his family was well off. He is incredibly wealthy, and it shows. Which is important to note because he, not once, showed any guilt or remorse on dying and leaving his family behind. Yes, he sometimes refers to people as being similar to his family but he never showed any pain for losing that life like he did when he lost LBH. This is important because I genuinely think SY was depressed and self destructive to himself, which goes against popular HC that he was chronically/terminally ill (I do like this HC and like how its portrayed in fanfiction). It would explain how he ended up dying all alone by himself, and how blase he was to his own life and death.

SQQ is a self destructive force who ended up dying three times, and didn’t feel anything about death itself. He was worried about others and the effect it had on them, but for himself it was up and on again like it never happened. He does not care for his health, had self isolated as SY to the point he died alone, and has a horrible self esteem to the point that he continuously agrees when other people put him down and often calls himself the villain. Even though we have seen the evidence of someone who is always being thrust into new situations and awful plots, he calls himself lazy and easy going. He hides his thoughts and feelings behind his fan and has a remarkably thin face. At the very base of his actions and his thoughts, he is self destructive, powerful, and smart. This is the set up for a villain.

However, when shown the actual people in front of him and forced to act as SJ did towards LBH and his disciples, he flinches from it. He notes that it happening in front of him was different. His entire self soothing comedy monologue went quiet when he had to enforce the Endless Abyss scene, and grieved for the childish innocence he killed from one of his favourite people. SY was set up to be the villain and obviously thinks of himself as one, but can not act as one. If he had the choice LBH would have been his sticky sweet white lotus disciple for as long as LBH wished to be.

His kindness, as seen in the book, is what turned him from being “the scumbag villain” to the protagonist we see in the novels. Which, yes, he is a protagonist! He even has the protag halo that LBH has and its very funny in the meta way for SQQ not to realize this, but thats for another post. But he loves his disciples, he loves his peak lord siblings, he loves his Binghe, he loves his new life, and he is kind. That is what kept him from being the villain he sees himself as, his kindness and love for others. Whether that be romantic, platonic, or familial, he loves the people he has met and he treats them kindly. That is why it is important to remember that he was set up as the villain by everything in the story we do not see, but what we do see is him continuously changing the story to fit a new genre that lets as many people as he can save live. Sorry sorry, I just think about SY being set up as a villain so much. It changes a lot of views I have on the series when I remember the duality of SYs story and character development.

[aratribow]

What would happen if yanqing died.

I need more angst about Yanqing and jing yuan pls

AHHHHH I ACTUALLY HAVE SO MANY YQ MCD WIPS? That my lazy ass never completed..

But I present you ONE polished thingy. (Don't mind me adding in a ship as well ^^)

An au where Kafka was a bit too late with the spirit whisper, where Jing Yuan was a bit too late to save Yanqing from the shard sword aimed for his chest.

Ps: Yanqing is a bio renjing child here, but Ren didn't know about his existence because he left to get milk and never came back. ^^

Warning: Yanqing MCD

The sun sets, the bird ceases its song, and the lion mourns: (title suggested by @itsredpaint )

He distantly watched as the window curtains flew with the breeze, a chill so familiar. Lying motionless in the assigned bed at the alchemy commission, Jing Yuan felt numb; if the scratchy material of the sheets felt mildly prickly – then he couldn't tell. His barely taken breaths, the only sign of his survival.

There's nothing left.

The momentary fragile trust that took everything, for just a fraction, was broken on a whim.

Another loved one lost to the winds, too young and tender for the graves, too young and tender to wonder if even the ashes will remain.

Jing Yuan was supposed to die there, die at the hands of the Lord Ravager, he had everything prepared beforehand, so why. He was not supposed to be stranded on the mortal world with nothing left of his own, he had already lost plenty, what more was there to lose anymore.

For the moment, he couldn't even recognize if the dull throbbing pain from his chest was entirely the work of Cloud Piercer or not. The lingering remains of Destruction still pulsing through his chi didn't help either.

In the quiet solitude of the night, Jing Yuan's harsh breaths kept him up, the ragged pathetic sound so bitterly familiar.

If he was just a little bit faster…just a little bit faster to save the only sun left in his life.

(The other sun had already been lost to the stars, with nothing left of her other than the telltale bravery of her ill fated luck sewed into the few remaining strands of her lilac hair.)

With a bated breath, he realised that he would never see his retainer again. He would never get to see his dust blonde hair, which, despite being deftly tied up in a high ponytail, always ended up covered in dirt from the spars. The way it gleamed with a gentle sheen of gold whenever Jing Yuan combed through the knotted strands of his freshly dried hair after a long day of work, the action soothing his nerves into a pleasant buzz of tranquillity with Yanqing nodding off on his shoulder. He would never get to see the vivid shade of molten gold in his eyes either, which would crinkle at the edges with a beaming smile at the mention of a favoured sword.

People around General Jing Yuan always remarked as to how his retainer's eyes completely resembled his own, he wondered why, for he always thought that if there was someone who could rival the Sun, it would be Yanqing. not anymore, though

Confined in the cage of his short-sighted immortality, the Divine Foresight mourned. Could he have saved his disciple, his lieutenant, his retainer, his son if only he hadn't undermined the play orchestrated by fate itself? If only he hadn't trusted his life with the phantom of a man once loved and cherished.

Seeing nothing but the blurry lines of the ceiling, he dared not to blink as he let the tears cascade down by themselves, framing his face in a warmth he could only ever dream of now.

Despite being consumed by the guilt of failing yet another, he did not fail to discern the presence that breached the privacy of the room. If not for the silent footfalls, then for the tenseness permeating from the body.

He blinked once, twice.

"He was your son, too." Jing Yuan said, voice barely audible, barely held together against the lump in his throat, threatening to choke him. If not for the dead of the night, void of any activity around, the words would have been lost, blown away by the chilled breeze coming in through the windows.

With eyes still focused on the ceiling, he noticed the body wince in his periphery.

Jing Yuan never thought that it would come to this, but now? Now he wanted this person to mourn alongside him, to share the pain that tore his barely beating heart out and reduced it to shreds. But perhaps it was even more foolish of him to think that Ren would care.

If he had, he wouldn't had left, not when Jing Yuan needed him the most, not when Jing Yuan missed him so bad it hurt, a tender wound damaged again and again with no respite, with no chance to heal, to the point where Jing Yuan felt the kindling fire die within him…and he let it.

The only time he dared to show face was to kill their son, to take away the only light left in Jng Yuan's dying world.

Because what would it matter to Ren when it was Jing Yuan who had to raise Yanqing all by himself. It would be Jing Yuan, who would ever know about Yanqing's child-like antics despite the act he proudly put up for his role as a lieutenant.

It would be Jing Yuan who would remember his pleading eyes at barely the end of the month, and despite the visible disapproval he would still fulfil the wishes, just to see a triumphant smile grace his son's face for winning a war that didn't exist in the first place.

It would be Jing Yuan who would cherish his joy at the agreement of eating outside at a favourite restaurant, relishing in the simplicity of it. It would be Jing Yuan who would know of his boundless determination, his passion, his courage to overcome obstacles at such an early age, his dream of becoming the sword champion...that would remain a dream in itself.

Perhaps…if he had kept him away from the ruthless reality, and if he had just provided the comfort of a father and not the sternness of a mentor, a General, then…perhaps-

Despite being surged by the bitter feelings, he could hardly feel it in himself to move, it seemed to further drown him within the sheets instead. Perhaps it was for the best because he couldn't tell what he wanted to do with his limbs or his body anymore. His grip on reality, failing him.

Before he could choke even further on his misery, he felt a rough bandaged hand coming to rest on his forehead – just then, he finally found his body moving as he violently recoiled against the hand. If it was the tender hand of a lover before, now, it was just the hand of a murderer that dripped with the blood of his child.

Something must have been written on his face besides the silent stream of tears, for he saw the body retreat back quicker than it came to be. He wondered if he would retreat back through the door, never to show face again, just like last time.

But Jing Yuan could care less. If Ren wished to stay for some sick godforsaken reason, just to haunt him in his last moments, then he probably should. Jing Yuan didn't have it in himself to stop him, he'd rather have that same blade plunge through his heart and seal the final deal for him.

He knew the mara wouldn't be long after this, he had lived enough already, and his son was the last straw.

"Baba.... it hurts.." Yanqing said as he had coughed out a string of viscous red that shouldn't be there, not at this age, not now.

Jing Yuan remembered the feeling of pure rage dissipating only to be replaced by unadulterated anguish instead as he collapsed to his knees beside his child. There was a gaping wound that shouldn't have been there-

No, it shouldn't have been there, and yet it was.

Yanqing had laid there, in his arms, seeping precious blood into the ruined tiles of the Dragonvista Hall. Jing Yuan recalled feeling helpless as he watched the blood gurgle from Yanqing's mouth, making it hard for him to breathe. The strength in his tender face long gone as he watched the colour receding rapidly, leaving nothing but pure fear in its wake. His son was scared, scared and he could do nothing to soothe the pain.

He used to pull his son close into his arms, secure him there and read him stories or recount tales from the past at nights Yanqing couldn't sleep. He wonders if he should have paid more attention to the beating heart against him, comforting in the constant rhythm of alive, alive, alive-

His grip on Yanqing faltered as slick blood sluggishly gushed out of the wound on his tiny body. How could someone this small lose this much blood?

Before he could’ve tried to bring his son a false sense of security, the least he could've done for his frightened child, he saw his breath even out and his eyelids flutter shut against the remaining tears streaming down his face. The tears that washed away the grime on his young face only to leave tracks of evident pain behind.

Jing Yuan couldn't do anything when yanqing slowly nudged his face into his neck, with his last remaining strength, to breathe out a final…apology.

"Baba, I'm sorry....I...failed you."

Before he could retort back to dispel the thought, (How had he failed to notice this brewing insecurity? What kind of father-) he felt the body completely slump into his arms, warmth dissipating from his body already.

Oh how he wished for the cold to be from Yanqing's frost, and not from his dying body.

He couldn't remember how long he sat there, but it must have been enough for Dan Heng to approach him and rest a (reassuring?) hand on his shoulder. He might've spoken something but Jingyuan could hear nothing over the blood boiling in his veins, over the unresponsive body in his arms, pulled close to his own to at least share a portion of his own body heat in desperate hopes of convincing himself that his son was still alive. He clutched him tightly enough to probably hurt, but hurting would have been good, it would've meant that he was still breathing.

The haze eventually cleared when he felt the dam finally break in its wake.

Jing Yuan swayed forward into his lap with his hands covering his face, hiding himself from the world, from himself, and from him. He heard a loud whimper before registering an inhumane cry of pure agony, not realising that the sound was torn out from himself.

He wanted to slam his fist into the mattress, feel the wooden frame of the bed break underneath his hands. He needed to let out the pain somehow, but he could find no purchase when he felt a pair of hands firmly, yet gently, remove his tightly clenched fingers clutching the bunched up sheets. He felt bitterly vulnerable as he struggled against the firm hold, pushing him back down onto the bed, the rough material of the bandage grating against his wrists. He cried out at the cruelty that denied him the simple notion of curling in on himself, the need in his body to clutch something, someone close against him growing stronger by the second. What more could Ren want from him?

"LEAVE!” He lashed out, sobbing with broken hiccups. He hated how exposed he felt, having nowhere to hide his face.

"Leave like you always did! Leave like you were always meant to, because leaving is the only thing you are good at-"

The words promptly got stuck in his throat though, as he distinctly felt a drop of tear hitting his face. The following whimper made Jingyuan finally turn back to gaze into Ren's contorted face, his lips pulled into a wobbling snarl with his brows tightly knit together. Ren hovered over him as gold met red and more tears struck his skin as they emerged from eyes barely kept open.

Despite a faint voice in his head urging him to wipe away tears if his past lover, Jing Yuan couldn't find it in himself to be merciful for this once. He has shown enough mercy in this lifetime, he wanted to be selfish for once.

"You killed our son, Ren. It was me who had raised him, and now it again has to be me....to see through his funeral." Jing Yuan weeped, still reeling from the onslaught of guilt. “How many more Ren? How many more?”

If Jing Yuan went overboard with his demands, then he did. The patience meticulously crafted over the years shattering in mere seconds.

He saw Ren violently wince, and it…shouldn't have been as satisfactory as it was, but he couldn't deny the cruel satisfaction of watching the murderer collapse under the realisation of his own crimes. Perhaps this is what Ren wanted to feel as well when he chased Dan Heng across the universe.

Ren finally left the hold around his wrists as he sank onto the ground to his knees, his face dejectedly pushed into the mattress, going completely still despite a hand still faintly holding onto Jing Yuan's own. If it was an apology, then Jing Yuan couldn't tell.

[lykegenia]

I've said this already in the tags on a different post but I can't stop thinking about Janeway after the Pathfinder project is successful and she starts getting reports from Starfleet HQ about the Dominion War. How inexorable a force the Jem'Hadar seem. How world after world is falling. How the casualties mount. The Maquis have already been destroyed and she can feel the grief from those of her officers who lost friends, but beyond that there's the knowledge that the destruction didn't end with a few rebels on the edge of Federation space. The entire Alpha Quadrant is tearing itself apart, and it's all so far away. Yes, her little ship has face Borg and alien power struggles and a Void without stars - they've lost friends too - but as the numbers keep coming in, day after day, impossibly high, what goes through her mind? Does she wish harder that she hadn't destroyed the array, so that she could have stayed to fight and do her part to save the home she so desperate to get back to? Or is some part of her soothed about her decision, knowing that by putting the needs of the Ocampa before her own, she likely saved the lives of many of the people now under her command? How do you deal with loss on such an abstract yet personal scale, and how do you sit and read the reports of lost battle after lost battle, knowing that it might mean the home you were so desperate for might no longer exist by the time you get there?

What if Voyager ends up being all that's left?