#summer: depression? suicidal ideation? i don't know her

[weemsfreak]

Surprise

Larissa Weems x fReader

Larissa hasn't been herself lately, and to make things worse, she's nearing 50.

Happy ending, ~3.9k words

Warnings: Suicidal ideation, depressed and tired Larissa

You knocked on the large wooden doors to the principals office, awaiting the sound of a voice that would bless your ears. It was the middle of the school day, she had to be here. When no response came, you decided you'd try the handle, and you walked in unexpectedly being greeted by nobody.

You made your way cautiously to the desk, which held nothing on its surface- except for a calendar.

December 2023

Tuesday - 'Rogers birthday'

Friday -'My birthday'

You weren't surprised that Larissa was keeping track of birthdays, she was in charge of planning them, after all. When a staff member at Nevermore had a birthday, Larissa would plan a social for the end of the work day. Like today for instance, you would soon be heading for cake, a little gift for roger, and perhaps a few drinks with the other teachers. Oddly enough though, you hadn't heard mention of a social on Friday. You focused on the calendar slot where Larissa had written 'My birthday'. December 8th, you committed to memory, that was her birthday.

Rogers party was enjoyable. The cake was rather yummy, and the staff had a few laughs together. "So, any more birthdays coming up soon? I could go for another cake" Roger joked after thanking Larissa for the party. Larissa tilted her head in thought, "Um, no. Not until next month." Some teachers let out a sarcastic huff of disappointment, but you took in the woman before you, confused.

Her face told you otherwise, it told you that she had lied, rather well, but not well enough.

Her face told a story, that maybe only you could read, of sadness, rejection, and loneliness. Perhaps Larissa didn't like the attention, or perhaps she didn't like parties. Perhaps she was scared of getting older, many people were.

You have only recently, about four months ago, became part of the Nevermore family, but you were quick to feel accepted and become enamoured with the woman. You and Larissa weren't very close, but that was likely because you were far too shy around her. Still, you thought that Larissa deserved to celebrate, she deserved to celebrate herself.

When the social came to an end, you pulled Vlad aside and asked if he had ever attended a celebration for Larissa's birthday, to which he shook his head no, and said that he was sure it was in the summer, because nobody had ever mentioned it.

That night you did a little digging. Probably, most likely, definitely too much digging. Did you go too far with things? Sometimes. But this was important, this was important to you.

You called your friend who worked for the United States government. "You want to know someone's birthday, huh? What are you doing, planning a party?" You laughed, why else would you want to know someone's birthday? "Larissa Marie Weems. Yes, I found it. Born in England, came to the United States in 1989-" "Okay Bri, I don't need her whole history" you interrupted. "Sorry, sorry. Her birthday is December 8th, 1973. Well, according to her file, anyway" she chuckled. You thanked your friend before hanging up and getting to work.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Larissa had not been herself lately. Weather it was due to her slow recovery, the betrayal of a supposed friend last year, the school being in shambles until some months ago, or her blatant loneliness, she didn’t know. Perhaps it was everything. She had not been herself since, well, since when? Who was she, exactly?

The headmistress of Nevermore, the girl who stayed in the same place mentally, and also physically, most of her life? The girl who loved, and lost, but was never loved back, was never lost in return. The girl who studied, excelled, travelled, and then came back. The girl who stayed, she was always the girl who stayed.

And now she was a woman, nearing 50, who still stayed. She stayed in her mind, full of trauma, deaths, and, you guessed it, more trauma. She stayed in her school, in her home, which was starting to feel, unsafe? Unlike a home, unlike her. She stayed in her thoughts, which were heartbreakingly also starting to feel unsafe.

Ah yes, she was nearing 50. And after all of these years, so, so many years, she thought that she may have a friend by now. A real friend, perhaps a partner. Someone who didn't abandon her willingly, or die on her unwillingly. Someone who wouldn't try to kill her for their own benefit.

She didn't know, had no clue actually, what she would do, what she could do, to get someone to like her. What was so wrong with her, she thought. What was so wrong with her that nobody liked her? She wasn't ugly, although she could be insecure. She could be scary, mean, authoritative, it was her job, her demeanour. But, she could also be sweet, loving, kind, caring, helpful, she knew that she was all of those things.

Deep down, she knew. Deep, deep down, she knew she wanted to love, she had SO much love to give. Alas, it seemed nobody wanted to give it back. So, she spent her years taking care of the younger generation, hoping and praying that none of them would turn out like she had. Depressed, lonely, full of defeat, trauma, self hatred and, love. She spent her time trying to bury her thoughts in work, in late nights, in wine, under a façade, but deep, deep down, she wanted out. She no longer wanted to be the one who stayed.

She stared at the calendar which was now on her coffee table, haunting her as she downed another glass of red. December 8th, a day that her mother had brought her into this world, this nasty, cruel, unforgiving, hateful world. This beautiful, tearjerking, progressive, lovely world. December 8th, the day that her family rarely celebrated. December 8th, the day that she rarely celebrated. God she loved that day, and at the same time, she absolutely resented it. She really, really dreaded that day, for it was a day that Morticia had ignored and belittled.

____________________________________________________________________________________

December 6th, 1990

"Happy Birthday Tish!" Larissa smiled, greeting Morticia in the quad at lunch. "Thank you Issa" Morticia replied, wrapping her arms around the taller girl. Larissa held a small box out to Morticia, "I got you something." Morticia took the box and sat down, Larissa sat across from her. Morticia opened the box and found a small black bracelet that Larissa had made especially for her. The beads were made of obsidian and onyx, with an 'M' placed in the middle. Morticia slipped it on and took Larissa's hand, "Thank you Issa" she said, as she blew her a kiss. Morticia then turned her attention to Gomez and a few other girls at the table. "So, I was thinking Saturday, we invite everyone to my room and then down to the quad for my birthday celebration!" Gomez agreed, and the other girls quickly followed up with fun things that they could do to celebrate. "Tish?" Larissa spoke quietly. "Cara Mia?" Morticia replied. "My birthday is Saturday, remember?" Morticia's eyebrows furrowed before she faked an expression of surprise. "Oh, right. Well, can you celebrate Sunday? Or another day?" Larissa looked down to her lap and fidgeted with her hands as she pondered Morticia's words. Another day? But her birthday was actually on Saturday, Morticia's wasn't. "Well, can't you celebrate yours tonight?" Morticia laughed, "No Larissa, Thursday isn't a good day for a party." Larissa nodded in agreement, although she didn't actually agree. Larissa smiled as she came up with a great idea. "Well, can we merge our parties on Saturday? We can celebrate together!" Morticia frowned at this idea, why would she want to share her party? "I think we should celebrate separate love, we can have two parties. Mine will be Saturday, and yours can be Sunday." Morticia went back to planning her party with the others as Larissa sat there in silence and defeat. She knew that nobody would want to celebrate on Sunday after having a big party on Saturday, she knew that nobody would come, not for her.

As it was, Saturday Larissa celebrated Morticia in their dorm, but rejected following them down into the quad. Some people wished Larissa a happy birthday, but Morticia, did not. Larissa celebrated that night, alone in her room with a hot chocolate and a pastry. "Happy birthday to me" she whispered, as she blew out a candle and let smoke fill the empty room.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Yes, December 8th was a day for Larissa, and perhaps that's why she felt dread. She was nearing 50, in 3 days, to be precise, and all she wished for was, well, was to die.

She wished that her mother never had her, she wished that she had not lived through everything she had, alone, so utterly alone. She wished that it wasn't a day that she could resent, she wished that it wasn't a day that Morticia could make her hate. She wished that it wasn't a day at all, for maybe it didn't have to be.

Oh how ironic it would be, to perish the same day on which you were born. Like Shakespeare, letting every word she had said become nothing, and every word she had never spoken become something. It would send a message, but to whom? To whom did Larissa have to send a message? And so close to Christmas, at that.

Larissa loved Christmas, well, she used to. It was so warm, so cozy, so breathtaking, so…heartbreaking. She didn't have a family, but perhaps if she did, she might actually come to like her birthday, the winter, the holidays. She might drink hot chocolate and sit by the fire and feel safe, she might feel okay, she might feel loved. She might not sit at the Weathervane alone, as everyone went back home for the holidays. She might not sit in her office by the fire, downing red and eating cookies that she baked herself, by herself. She might not walk through the snowy filled streets and let the glow of the artificial lights wash over her with tears in her eyes and nobody by her side. She might not stare down at the snow and see herself as a child, building a snowman and smashing her friend in the face with a snowball. She might not loathe the fact that she was who she was, and the fact that she was born on December 8th. Because when it all came down to it, her birthday, Christmas, and every single other day of the year, time was time. Time was fake, time was long, time was tears, and time was wrong. Time meant nothing, if she allowed it to mean nothing.

Yet she didn't, she allowed it to mean something. She let it mean something. She let it make her wish that she hadn't been here, that she wasn't here now.

That night she pondered over life, and death, and she came to the conclusion that she wasn't who she once was, nor was she who people were led to believe. She came to the conclusion that Nevermore would suffer without her, without their headmistress. But, she had one wish, one birthday wish.

Let it, she thought, let it suffer, for she has suffered enough for everyone. ___________________________________________________________________________________

When Friday, December 8th came, Larissa awoke with a heavy heart. She sat up in her bed as tears fell like bricks into her lap, and her hands trembled as she knew what they would soon be capable of.

Still, she went throughout her day as Principal, one last time. She greeted the students in the hallways, one last time. She made sure that her affairs and the schools affairs were in order, one last time. She shapeshifted and walked through the school, taking in everything that she could, one last time. And, she cried over Morticia's photo, one last time.

She settled down in front of the fire with a glass of wine in her hand and a hot chocolate, indulging one last time. It was only 4 in the afternoon, but she was tired, she was so incredibly tired.

She closed her eyes and laid her head back on the sofa as she thought about her birthday. Nobody had wished her happy birthday, nobody knew it was her birthday, nobody except you. But she didn't know that you knew, and as she thought about dying on the same date that she was born, she smiled, for nobody would know.

"Larissa!" you almost screamed, barging into her office frantically. Her eyes opened in a panic as she shot her wide gaze to you. You almost lost your act as you took her in, sitting on the sofa with wine and hot chocolate. Her office was clean, cleaner than usual, and she looked so tired, had she been crying? It was only quarter after 4, what was she doing?

"We have a problem, follow me!" you said in a hurry, ushering her up and out of her office. Larissa followed behind you as your pace quickened, and she rolled her eyes at the thought of having to deal with one of Nevermore's problems, one last time.

As she followed you through the halls, she watched your pace slow and your worry fade. You ended up walking beside her, and taking her hand in yours. Part of your brain told you that she might not follow, that she might know that there was no problem and run away. Part of your brain told you that maybe she didn’t at all want to celebrate, and that she would reject the surprise party and leave in tears.

Still, you held her hand as you stared up at her, your panicked act fading into a large smile. Larissa was so confused as to why you were holding her hand, and smiling at her? She looked down at your no longer panicked face and her eyes met yours, they were, admiring? You looked happy, joyful, loving, and maybe, maybe you were hiding something.

As you both neared the staff room Larissa stopped dead in her tracks. "What is the problem?" she asked, furrowing her eyebrows at you. "It’s in here, come" you said, slowly opening the door to the staff room. You walked in slightly, enough to be able to turn on the lights, and Larissa stepped beside you. "I don't see a-" "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!"

Everyone shouted and jumped up as you flicked the lights on, and you winced when you watched Larissa jump back in surprise. Larissa's mouth dropped open as she scanned the room, her eyes wide in shock. As you looked up at her expression your heart sunk a bit, for she didn’t look grateful, she didn't look like anything. Surprised, she was, but not happy surprised. "Larissa?" you whispered, and she whipped her head around and bent down to you, putting on a faceless expression. "Is this okay?" you asked hesitantly. Larissa blinked a few times before she turned to the room of people. Her staff were staring at her expectantly with smiles on their faces. She noticed a cake on the middle table, decorations, and a birthday sign that said 'Happy 30th!'

She began to walk slowly into the room, taking you with her. Once she got to the middle table, Larissa slowly but surely smiled. She took a deep breath and looked down at you, before looking around to all of her staff. "Thank you all" she said, bringing her other hand to her chest and laying it on her heart. Teachers then walked to her one by one and gave her a hug, saying happy birthday to her personally. You took that time to reach into your bag and dig out a birthday sash that read 'Birthday Queen'. You walked up to her and she laughed when she saw the sash, bending down to your level so you could slip it over her head and onto her body.

The party kicked off with everyone singing happy birthday to her, and then she blew out many candles on a chocolate cake that read 'Happy Birthday Larissa!'. You pulled out a bottle of her favorite red, which you knew she had already been drinking, and poured her a glass to go with her cake. When everyone finished eating, they socialized and played a few games that you had set out, and you took this time to finish her card.

You sat her down again and presented her with it. When she opened the card, it was full of small messages and signatures of everyone on the staff. Larissa scanned all the names before deciding that she would read the messages later tonight. You watched as a tear escaped her eye, but she was smiling. Your heartbeat quickened before it rested, happy tears, you thought. She looked around at everyone as she wiped at her eyes. "Thank you all so much. I haven't celebrated my birthday in so long."

“We didn't know when your birthday was Larissa, I thought it was in the summer" Vlad chuckled. Larissa giggled and sighed, "I know, I kept it a secret." Larissa then furrowed her brows and looked around at her staff, "Wait, how did you all find out?" Roger instantly gestured to you and smiled, "Y/N found out." Larissa looked down at you and tilted her head in question as a blush spread on your cheeks. "Y/N planned the whole party" Vlad added. The woman pouted her lip as she took your hand in hers. She smiled and squeezed your hand as her eyes watered, "Thank you darling."

The party went on and your heart clenched at the sight of Larissa enjoying herself with the others. You didn't know if she resented you for telling everyone about her birthday, but you were glad that she was celebrating herself. You were relieved, in awe really, you hoped that your digging and planning meant something to her.

When the party was over and most people left, you started cleaning up the room. Larissa stayed with you and started to clear the tables. "Larissa don't worry about the mess, I got it" you smiled.  She waved a hand at you dismissively, "Nonsense darling, let me help you." After everything had been cleaned up, you turned to her nervously. "Happy birthday Larissa, I hope it was enjoyable." Larissa smiled down at you and whispered a thank you. She then paused, "Come with me, will you?" You nodded and followed along.

She led you to her office where she gestured for you to sit on the sofa. You placed your bag on the floor and turned to her. "How did you find out that my birthday was today?" she asked. You chuckled in embarrassment, "I saw it written in your calendar."

Larissa's expression turned to one of joy as she laughed and shook her head, "Sneaky girl" she mused. You reached into your bag and pulled out a small box with her name on it. Larissa looked at you in shock as you held it out to her. "I didn't know if you liked celebrating, or if you even liked your birthday at all after you said that there were no more staff birthdays this month" you chuckled. "But, I thought that you were worth celebrating Larissa, so I got you something."

You held the box out to the woman as she stared down at you in awe. Her breathing was rapid and her eyes were teary once again, and you thought that she might not take it. You reached for her hand and placed the box into her delicate palm, "It’s not much, sorry" you smiled.

Larissa looked down at the box and slowly began to open it. Inside she found a bracelet, made with beads of Moonstone and Lapis Lazuli, a birthstone for the month of December, and the color of Larissa's eyes, you noted. In the middle of the bracelet there was a bead with the letter 'L'.

Larissa brought her hand to cover her gasp when she realized that you had made it yourself, all for her. As tears spilled from her eyes, you had no idea what was happening. You also had no time to say anything before the blonde woman wrapped her arms around you and pulled you tight against her. You felt her sniffle and cry into you, and you nuzzled your head into her as you began to stroke her hair. You didn't know why she was reacting like this, but no matter, you'd comfort her any day, you'd do anything for her, any day.

You let Larissa cry into your shoulder for a few minutes before you pulled back, and your eyes met her mascara stained face. "I love it" she whispered. You smiled and nodded. "I usually resent my birthday Y/N. Nobody ever celebrates with me and I, I have some bad memories." Larissa sniffled as she pressed her forehead to yours. "I'm sorry Larissa, I just thought you deserved to be celebrated." Larissa furrowed her brows, "Really?" You cupped her face in your hands, "Yes, really" you whispered.

Larissa stared into your eyes, perhaps she was trying to read you. She paused, and then she gave in. "I haven't been doing too well, darling. This time of year is lonely, and it's always hard for me, and I-" Larissa didn't get to finish her sentence because her voice wavered and tears fell again. You wiped them from her cheeks with your thumbs as she tried to told them back and her gaze fell to the floor. "Look at me Larissa" you whispered. Larissa again met your eyes hesitantly, and it was confirmed, you were right. She was sad, she was lonely, and she wasn't herself, but "I'm here for you. I will be here for you Larissa, please allow me to help you." Larissa let out a sob as she pulled you into her again and found comfort in your neck. You kissed her on the cheek and breathed in her being, as you felt tears fall from your own eyes. "I wanted to celebrate today Larissa, because, I'm so glad that you were born, I'm so happy that you're here. I'm so grateful for you, beautiful. I'm so, so proud of you."

Later that night, Larissa sat in her quarters, reading the messages that her friends had written. She pulled you tight next to her as she smiled at the bracelet on her arm, the bracelet that you had made her. Larissa realized that she did have people who loved her, in one way or another. She realized that she did want to live, she just didn't want to live alone. She came to the conclusion that you had saved her from herself that day. Such a simple gesture from you, a woman that hadn't known her that long, your observation and attention, and your thoughtfulness and love, had saved her.

You kissed her forehead and pulled her face closer to yours, winking. “Happy Birthday Larissa, 50 looks good on you." Larissa smiled and scoffed playfully as she returned the kiss to your nose.

Perhaps December 8th didn't need to mean anything, anything bad or traumatic, at least. Perhaps time didn’t mean anything, perhaps it didn't need to, if she didn't allow it. Perhaps she was the one that stayed, and perhaps you would be too.

[blue-blue-blooms]

When Love Isn't Enough

Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

Part 1

1.6k words

Summary: Steve can feel you pulling away. You haven't been yourself in a while, becoming more and more withdrawn. It doesn't help that there's an evil wizard on the loose and you meet the checklist for the perfect prey.

Warnings: Some angst. Talks of depression, loneliness, and suicidal ideation.

"Y/N hasn't been herself lately. And, I don't know, she's been pulling away recently. Not physically. More, like, she's there but she isn't. She's in the room with me and she's pretending to listen, but I can tell she's thinking about something else. And it isn't like she's bored or, like, daydreaming, she just seems...distant. She keeps saying she's fine, but I know that she's not. I mean, she thinks I haven't noticed, but she doesn't eat much anymore. She barely sleeps and she claims it's because of school, or work, or whatever excuse she has...Robin, are you listening to me?" Steve rambles, one hand on the steering wheel and the other running through his hair in frustration, as he drives Robin to the pep rally. 

"Yes, yes, I'm listening!" Robin exclaims, desperately trying to keep her hand steady as she applies her mascara. 

"Really? What'd I just say then?" Steve asks.

"Something about how obsessed you are with Y/N and the smell of her hair," Robin guesses, immediately backtracking as she sees the look on Steve's face, "I'm sorry! But there's always so much going on in your love life. I can't fully grasp the labyrinthine complexity that is your and Y/N's relationship!"

"It's not that complex, I'm worried about her!" Steve says, "Like just today, she calls me and says not to drive her and Dustin to school because they're biking. She doesn't even own a bike!"

Robin stops applying her makeup for a second and looks over. Realizing the severity of Steve's emotions, she lets out a little sigh and gives him a gentle nudge with her hand. 

"I'm worried about her, too" She confesses, "I don't think she's mentioned this to anyone so please don't bring it up with her, but her grades have been slipping. A lot."

"Really?"

"Yeah, and I've seen her at the counsellor’s office" Robin admits.

"Ms. Kelley?"

Robin nods. 

"Well...Why didn't she say anything to me?" Steve asks, his face falling as he tries to come up with reasons as to why you aren't opening up. 

"I...I don't know. She hasn't been speaking to me, either. We sit together during lunch, but she barely talks to me. I just talk at her, and she just sits in silence," Robin replies, "Have you tried bringing this up with her?"

Steve pauses for a bit then says, "No...I didn't wanna push her. It just feels like...like she's teetering on the edge these days, and if I say the wrong thing, she'll run."

♡♡♡

Most days start like this: you wake up gasping for breath, one hand on your chest and the other stifling your sobs. Another nightmare. Sometimes it's about the Russians, sometimes it's about finding a Demogorgon eating your cat, sometimes it's about Billy and the Mind Flayer, sometimes it's about losing Hopper, but every time it hurts just as bad. You wish you hadn't gone to Mike Wheeler's that day to check up on Dustin. You wish you hadn't found out about Eleven or the lab or the Upside Down. But everything in your life is so deeply intertwined that you would have found out one way or another. It's beyond you how everyone else in Hawkins has remained so oblivious. 

Even though you wish you could rewind and take back every moment that led you to where you are now, you know in your heart that you wouldn't. If it wasn't for all the shit you had to go through, you wouldn't have the people you have now. You wouldn't have ever befriended Nancy Wheeler. You would've never met Robin Buckley. You and Dustin would never have grown as close as you are now. You wouldn't have the golden-dusted, happy memories that you made last summer with Max and El. You never would've learned how to play DnD with Will. And you never would have fallen in love. 

You never saw Steve coming. Well, you did see him coming that day when you and Dustin were at the Wheelers looking for everyone. He had roses in his hands, and he was mumbling to himself. For a second, you thought he'd caved into the insanity of what he'd gone through and lost his mind. 

"Are you talking to yourself?" you'd asked loudly, making him quickly turn around, "Do you need help?"

"What? No! I was just-" he'd stuttered, "What're you two doing here? Actually, who are you?" The last question was directed at you. 

"Who am I? The bitch that sat behind you in English for two years. I've been lending you pencils for months. Are you serious-" you'd snapped at him, a little offended at him for not recognizing you. 

"We don't have time for this!" Dustin yelled, interrupting you, as he took your hand and dragged you to Steve's car. 

You always laugh a little when you remember that particular memory. It wasn't the first time you two had met (maybe for Steve) but it was the first time you'd both become aware of each other. And it was like something had clicked into place because now that you both knew each other, you couldn't drift away. Suddenly Steve was everywhere. The summer after El's bitchin new makeover and the whole debacle that was closing the gate to the Upside Down, you and Steve spent every day together. He'd started working at Starcourt and you worked at the Kiosk across from him, which meant you saw each othera lot. Soon, those days of eating free ice cream in the back turned into shy glances, nervous laughter, and stolen kisses. You were his and he was yours. It was almost perfect. Almost. 

Because even with all this love, joy, and friendship, you can't forget that you're rotten to your core. That there is something deeply wrong with you, something gory and disgusting that's been eating you alive. You don't know how to tell Steve that he doesn't know. If he knew you, he'd leave you. You're so broken inside that it's almost comical. Every day starts and ends with a nightmare. Then the headaches. Sometimes the nosebleeds. Always the loud voices in your head reaffirming the beliefs you have of yourself. You're not good enough. Never have been. You're a fraud. Always have been. You don't know what's worse, when you can't breathe or when there's too much oxygen. 

You call Steve and tell him you don't need a ride. Then you make Dustin bike to school, and you wait for your mother to leave for work before climbing back into bed. These days, it was getting harder and harder to do the mundane, everyday tasks. You couldn't get out of bed. You couldn't take a shower. Everything required willpower that you just didn't have.

God, I'm so pathetic. 

You've nearly fallen back asleep when you hear a knock on your door. You ignore it, hoping whoever it is goes away. The knocking continues, growing louder and louder. You let out a curse and hop out of your bed, begrudgingly going to the front door. You open the door and find Steve standing outside. 

"I knew it!" He exclaims, "Why aren't you in school?"

You don't have the energy for this. You just want him to leave. 

"I'm sick," you lie, adding a half-assed cough, "You should be at work."

"If you were sick then why didn't you just say that when you called this morning?" Steve enquired, folding his arms across his chest, and raising an eyebrow. 

"I got sick after" you shrug, "How'd you know I wasn't in school."

"Dustin, he called about some DnD shit and mentioned you weren't in when I asked why you couldn't play," Steve explains, his eyes scanning your face, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," you say.

"No, you're not" Steve replies, coming in through the door and making his way into your room. You silently follow and fall back into bed. 

"Baby, what's going on?" Steve asks softly, getting into bed behind you and laying down.

"Just a headache," you mumble, "I'm fine."

You feel him padding his fingers through your hair and you find yourself lulling back to sleep. But before you can, you hear him start to speak again.

"Not just today, Y/N. What's going on with you? You haven't been yourself lately."

You don't know how to answer this. How do you articulate the absolute mess that is your mind? How do you tell him that you feel like you're on the verge of going insane? How do you tell him that all you feel is agonizing despair and the only reason you're alive is because you're too much of a coward to die?

"I just...haven't been feeling well," you say, "Just haven't been doing so well."

"How can I help? Can I do anything?" Steve asks, holding you close as he brushes the hair out of your face and lays a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead.

"I don't think anyone can fix it," you reply, turning to face him.

The sun peeks through your blinds and you can just about make out his face in the dark. You lean over and softly kiss him. He's everything that you're not but you're too selfish to let go.

"I just wish you'd speak to me, tell me what's going on in your head. I just feel locked out, baby." Steve whispers.

The only response you can manage to give is a mumbled sorry. But there's so much more you'd like to say. Sorry that you're stuck with me, you deserve better. Sorry that I'm like this. Sorry that I'm this broken, this wretched. Sorry that I've fooled you into thinking I'm better than I am. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

You close your eyes and lay your head on his chest. In the darkness of your room, you pray that this moment lasts forever. But as another nightmare sinks its claws into you, you're not sure if you'll make it out alive.

[itsclydebitches]

Let's tally things up, folks!

Ruby's entire depression arc is "resolved" by a one sentence exchange wherein she just... decides she's better now? 'Is this the message?' Ruby asks, on her knees in front of a not at all subtle broken piece of glass. 'That I'm just supposed to give up?' and then literally the next moment she sees Crescent Rose, the weapon she's been flinching from because it represents all the failures she hasn't actually grappled with this season, and decides that depression and suicidal ideation are for losers. Let's go fight a randomly evolved cat!

The group still doesn't care about Ruby's Volume-long struggle. What are you talking about, evil kitty? Ruby's never been confused, or weak, or feeling like she's broken. We're oblivious to all that. That's why we follow her, because we can easily ignore everything that's going on in her life and instead just focus on ourselves. Didn't she have a breakdown a couple of hours ago about having to lead all the time? Should we really be announcing the moment she steps out of the tree that we expect her to be in charge again? ... nah, it's fine!

I guess the overall message is that any and every horrific act is excusable because you're just being yourself? Sorry we doomed a Kingdom and have actively helped Salem in trying to take over the world. The horrors we've enacted are good things though because it means we're being ourselves.

Ruby is conveniently the only Ascended who retains all her memories. Can't have the protagonist undergoing any kind of actual change, after all.

Neo throws herself into the tree despite that going against every iota of her characterization. Will we ever see her again? Who knows.

Is the blacksmith lady Alyx? I still have no idea.

Jaune is made young again, because of course he is. Love that they act like this is some curse he's suffered from - "It's been so long..." - and not an actual life lived across several decades. If I got stuck somewhere for twenty-ish years and then someone tried to magic me back to my 18 year old self I'd be like wtf? No? I'm not a teenager??? Will the show ever acknowledge that Jaune is actually an old man in a de-aged body now? I doubt it, considering this plot-line had no impact on his personality, skill, or outlook.

Also love that the brothers' story is treated like this wonderful tale of growth and exploration. The blacksmith is going on about how amazing it is that you don't know what you'll get when you create something, tone all fond for the demi-gods that have left her world to toy with new ones, and I just wanted one of the characters to start screaming about all the horrors they've caused. They killed an entire population in one fell swoop and have cursed two individuals for funsies, with the entirety of Remanent permanently under threat of annihilation if they don't meet the Gods' ambiguous standards of unity. Oscar didn't fall into the void because if Ozpin had been there he would have gone feral and attacked the blacksmith with his bare hands.

We're heading back to Remnant and Ruby still doesn't know that Jaune killed Penny! Ruby didn't even get her sword back. Or consider her in the tree therapy session. Why was killing her off necessary again? Oh yeah, Jaune angst🙃

We got a "when you're needed" from the blacksmith, so expect that time-skip in Volume 10. Can't wait to see how much important stuff the story skips over...

Also, this is so minor in the grand scheme of everything else, but I YELLED when Summer admitted that she'd lied about the mission. For nine Volumes these characters have been dragging Ozpin for every problem under the sun including, in Volume 7, for the mysterious disappearance of Summer, only for it to turn out that she LIED about where she was going and on whose orders, setting him up to take the fall when she doesn't come back. Who's going to have Qrow apologize to Ozpin for blaming him for years? Who's going to have Ruby unpack that her whole family is made up of liars and she was foolish to think that anyone, including Ozpin, could survive this war with a completely clean record? Hell, who's going to have Ruby simply tell anyone - including her sister - what she now knows about her mother's death? Not the RT writers, I'd wager.

Especially when they gave us a scene of Summer leaving on what she recognizes may be a suicide mission and leaves a token of affection for one daughter but not the other. Summer is Yang's mom too! Yeeeeeaaah the story is really bad about actually writing that.

Overall this Volume just feels like a colossal waste to me. The story ignored most of what was set up in Volume 8, introduced a world it didn't have time to flesh out, threw in an unnecessarily shocking story line about the hero trying to kill herself, 100% dismissed the ramifications of that, reset everyone so that none of the characters have to actually grow or change, and has now implied that all the plot important stuff - the Atlesians' survival in the desert, trying to ally with Theodore, Salem's next attack on Remnant, the development of most of our B Team, etc. - has occurred off screen.

The only thing this Volume accomplished was getting the bees together, which was something we should have had years ago. That admission hasn't changed their dynamic in any way, or introduced new conflicts (remember, no one cares about Ruby's breakdown, including her correct accusation that Yang has cared more about her girlfriend than her struggling little sister). It's just... there, not queerbaiting anymore, thankfully, but that feels like a very low bar to meet.

2+ months later and all I'm feeling is

[billys-pretty-babe]

Would It Be Better

Pairing : Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader

Summary : Billy's girlfriend struggles a lot with her mental health and he feels like he can't do anything for her but just hold her and tell her she'll be okay.

Warnings : Depression, anxiety, suicidal ideation, mentions of past self-harm (cutting), brief mention of a failed suicide attempt (overdose), Billy cries a little, swearing, angst, fluff at the end

Word count : 838 words

A/N : This piece is dealing with many heavy topics that I have been dealing with for the past nearly four months. Please, please, please read the warnings because many of them are triggering and I will completely understand if you skip this. Don't be afraid to reach out if you need help. OOC!Billy.

He didn't know what to do. His heart raced, his brain pounded against his skull, his palms began to sweat. He heard the comment she made today in class, she whispered it under her breath but still he heard it.

"Maybe it would be better if I just left forever."

Now he sat in her room, her face looked lifeless, her eyes lost all light and it pained him, he swore his heart was going to stop. "Baby," he quietly said, "I want to help you but you gotta tell me what's going on." She sniffled and wiped her face, her hands covered by the red lifeguard hoodie that she adorned, the red lifeguard hoodie that she stole from him months prior during the summer, claiming he didn't need it.

"B, it's too hot for a hoodie. You don't need it right now."

His closet never saw the hoodie again. the hanger now had no purpose, just like how his girlfriend felt, purposeless, hopeless, worthless. "It h-hurts," she stuttered out, her breath trying not to catch in her throat. "What hurts, baby? Can you tell me?" She patted her chest twice and he wasn't sure if it was because she was crying or if an anxiety attack was going to start.

Billy moved closer to her, sitting on the edge of her bed and she reached for his hand and he let her take it as she squeezed it tightly, trying to reassure herself that he was indeed there with her. "Are you getting bad again," he softly asked and she nodded, not wanting to break down in front of him, she had to be strong, she had to be.

"Why didn't you tell me?" She shrugged, her breath choppy as she tried to inhale. "Didn't want to bu-burden you." He shook his head, "No, there's another reason, tell me what it is." She shook her head, her hands fidgeting and Billy caught it. "Are you cutting again?" She shook her head, "No."

"Can I see?" She nodded, putting her arms out and Billy rolled the sleeves up, her arms clean besides the fading scars that she made months ago, when he first found out about her depression. He fixed the sleeves, kissing her hands gently as he held them. "Tell me what's going on. I'm not gonna get upset, okay? It's not good to keep your stuff bottled up." She nodded and breathed, trying to calm herself down.

"I wanna die," she softly said, trying to make her voice soft enough that he wouldn't hear it but he did and his heart stopped and his stomach dropped. The same feeling he gets on rollercoasters and he hates rollercoasters, seen final destination too many times. "I feel so worthless and so useless, like I shouldn't be here." Billy squeezed her hand, letting her talk. "When did you start thinking like this?" She shrugged, "Last night."

Billy nodded, "Did you plan on," he had to stop himself, his throat was tightening at the thought of burying his girlfriend and he cleared his throat, "did you plan on doing it?" Seconds went by and no response, "I don't know," her voice was weak, ready to give up. "It's just too much, Billy and I don't know if I can keep going." Billy bit his lip, trying not to cry, he couldn't cry in front of her now.

"And I love you, I love you so much, B but it just hurts so fucking badly," she was breaking in front of him, everything crumbling before him. "Do you remember what I told you after you tried to take those pills?" She nodded, not looking at him before speaking, "You go, I go." Billy nodded, "Exactly because goddamnit, I can't fucking do this without you. I know it's hard but baby, I'm here, okay?"

He paused for a moment, his vision blurred with his tears as a few fell onto their connected hands. "I know it's hard to talk about this stuff but I'm not going to bury my fucking girlfriend all because I couldn't save her, do you understand?" She nodded and fell into his chest, her body shaking as she cried and Billy held her tightly because now he knew that she could slip through his grasp.

"I love you and I need you here with me. We can get you help but you have to be honest, you can't sugarcoat like you usually do." She nodded against his chest and Billy kissed the top of her head, holding her head tightly to his chest so she could listen to his heartbeat, how it beats for her. He rubbed her back with his other hand, letting her cry against him as he put his head on hers and cried with her.

They held each other tightly, too afraid to let go of each other but they knew she would get the help she needed and Billy knew that everything would be okay, whenever she decided that it would be okay.

[callixton]

Ooooh how about 🎭💔🧸🎶 for barba and/or bobby??? Noone gets these guys the way you do.

omg that's such a compliment <3 i will do both of them

barba

🎭(a headcanon about what they lie about) - honestly i would not put it past him to preserve his private life by just making shit up. as he got to know the squad better, it stopped mattering so much, but it's become a bit of a game that only he knows about. it's also usually so innocuous that no one would even bother to check - someone asks him what he's doing this weekend? he's going to that string trio performing at the lincoln center. (he has actually set aside time to read the latest pulp thriller he got from the library while eating too much take out and he is not going to be disturbed.)

💔(an angsty headcanon) - rafael deals with depression and self-hatred frequently, but it rarely/never comes in the form of suicidal ideation, so he dismisses how serious it is. it's why he throws himself into work so wholly; at least if he's helping people, he can justify his existence. it also means he's too busy to have time to think about all of the problems he's ignoring.

🧸(a headcanon about their childhood) - oh there's so much i could say. well i don't think it was Good. but for a shotgun-blast-let's-see-what-we-hit of childhood hcs..... he spent every sunday with his grandmother, and almost all of his happiest memories are around her kitchen table. this is alluded to in october surprise but this kid got in FIGHTS oh my god he could not keep his mouth shut. thank god for eddie or he would have had his shit kicked in so fast. sorry to make this sad too but he dealt with the same problem at home with his dad, and eddie wasn't there to protect him. he read voraciously but almost exclusively in private; he wanted people to know he was smart, but he didn't want to get made fun of. he tried exactly one basketball summer camp before realizing he was too short and scrawny to compete.

🎶(a headcanon about music) - not to let actor bleed influence this too much, but i do think barba probably takes after raúl when it comes to music taste; i think "the music he loves best is the Cuban songs he learned from his grandmother." that said, other artists that i associate with him: frank ocean, bruce springsteen & 80s ballads

bobby

🎭- unfortunately bobby is lying to himself at basically all times as a baseline and therefore incidentally to the people around him. but for something more specific, i think he lies about how quickly he gets drunk. he doesn't like actually giving up control over himself and what he says, but he does like the social justification of being able to relax and open up, so he meets it somewhere in the middle and lets everyone else think he's gone before he actually is. it's pretty rare that his friends see through this, which both suits him fine and makes him lonelier.

💔- oh baby. well. tbh it's kind of hard for me to find a headcanon bc so much of what i consider heartbreaking about his character is very much text. However. i do like to play with the idea of his first encounter with a guy in college going so poorly that it contributes to him shoving his sexuality deep down and the subsequent repression we see in show. which is so sad for him bc he wouldn't have done it if he wasn't questioning right like. it might not have been an answer he liked but even that would have been an answer. and then he is just so completely in his head (and he's not even Into the other guy he just offered) that the whole thing goes terribly and he feels so broken bc if he's not gay then what is Wrong with him that he feels like this. (he does discover, some ten-odd years later, that he doesn't mind sleeping with men as much as he thought, but he's spent such a long time of convincing himself that it's not for him that it takes a Lot of pressure to break through that worldview)

🧸- did not have many friends :( on the one hand he really didn't mind that much bc he was absolutely the sort of kid who enjoyed playing on his own, but on the other hand that isolation of not feeling like there's anyone who understands him set in early. he was set up on lots of playdates by his parents where neither kid wanted to be there. he was an observer and a listener though. sooo much of the personality he presents over the years is drawn from copying the behaviors of people he likes.

🎶- this is such a good question bc his character playlist is So fully music i think about him to, not like. songs i think he would listen to. i don't actually think he seeks out music that often? i think he likes the noise of the city and whatever's playing on the radio; it makes him feel more connected to everything in an indirect way. if i had to choose a band i'm weirdly getting they might be giants. that said if he ever really listened to conan gray or mitski it would be so over for him.

[ohifonlyx33]

No wonder you're prolife, you grew up with enough money to afford a computer and an extra room to put it in. You don't know what it's like to spend your whole life wishing your mother were smart enough to abort you.

Hmm. I don't normally respond to hate...

But I can't believe you think poor people should kill their kids. That's a big red flag.

Also. If you are wishing you were aborted, that sounds like suicidal ideation/depression which you should probably seek help for.

As for being rich? Ahahaha no. Blessed, yes. Resourceful, yes. But rich? no. I knew people on welfare who made more and had fewer kids. But they made dumb choices, no offense.

My parents raised 5 kids on my mom's part time nursing income and nothing else.

We lived in a rundown 2 bedroom house in the city with a basement roof and bad plumbing that we couldn't afford to properly fix up... we used pastic on the windows for insulation and we had to watch how much we turned on the window AC during the summer, even if we were baking in 90.

yes there was some space. But none of it was really easy to use or in very good condition (cracking plaster everywhere). Me and my 2 sisters shared a bedroom. My brothers lived in the unfinished basement which sometimes flooded. My mom's room didn't even have a door because it was supposed to be a living room.

But yes. We made ends meet.

We ate out maybe once a month (off the dollar menu) and "vacations" were very sparse, short, and barely considered a vacation by most people's standards. I went to the movies maybe twice in my entire adolescence. We only did free things for a long time... when people gave us clothes, we all 3 girls wore them as hand-me-downs. My older siblings paid their own way through school. There are countless areas where we cut corners and had less material wealth than others. I'm pretty sure we were below the poverty line.

But my parents know that abortion is murder and so they raised their kids. Even if it was hard. And it was. My dad homeschooled us. But my mom begged him to get a job because her job was crushing her. They fought a lot. I have emotional baggage from things in my childhood.

Don't think that means I should have just been killed.

Oh. And the "computer room" is what we called the multipurpose office/guest room/storage where we kept our old clunky computer for school. We also called it grandmas room because we lived with my grandma for a little while.

So what i am saying is there is no excuse for abortion. There are ways to get help. There are ways to move up. We all have problems in life.

The best you can do is try to make good choices with what you have.

And murder is never a good choice.

[petalboundtovanish]

Talking about suicidal ideation below the cut

I don't want to die, not really. There's a lot of enjoyable stuff left to do. And I know a lot of people would be sad if I did that. Child me would be sad, too. I was terrified of death when I was younger. I didn't sleep for the whole summer when I found out people died. I had constant nightmares about angels taking me away from my family.

I've been thinking about suicide often lately. Not as a serious and thought out thing, just me saying to myself: "Okay, I'm going to eat dinner, and then I'm going to kill myself."

I had a weird encounter once. That day, while I was going home from school, I decided that I was going to kill myself. It was the end. No more suffering. While I was planning out my exact timing in the bus, a woman sat down next to me and started smiling. She had a huge wooden cross on her neck. She told me about how I'm a pretty girl and then started ranting about clothes. I was annoyed because she interrupted my thinking. Then, five minutes later, she gets up to leave at the next stop. But before doing that, she smiled at me one last time and told me: "I'll see you again." I was so out of my mind then that I started thinking I just had an encounter with the wackiest angel possible. But I guess her mission worked since I didn't off myself. And it was partially because of her. She just kept popping into my head. Even though I never saw her again after that.

Writing all of this didn't actually help me. I just feel worse now. And what's depressing is that I'm actually doing the best I've ever been in the past ten years. And yet, the now comforting thought of death still lingers in my mind. A lot of the time. Will I ever be free of it? I think not. I think dying by suicide is my destiny. It seems like one of those things that was always meant to happen. I hope I will be able to hold out for a long time. At the very least, I won't kill myself today. That counts as something, right?

[evilgrl-ssn]

Ketamine

Okay so a while ago I saw someone post a concept with Eddie that was like the scene from Euphoria when Fezco refused to give Rue drugs and she was begging him to let her in and for some reason I couldn't get it out of my head last night so if you know who had that concept please tell me their @ but for now I'm going to write this

Gender neutral reader but mention of hair being pushed out of your face

Warnings: Angst(happy ending), swearing, depression, mention of not eating, Drug Addiction, description of making someone throw up, description of throwing up, almost overdose, enabling, mentions of suicide but not suicide ideation or anything, hurt/comfort, detox, unrealistic recovery from drug addiction, shitty parental figures(let me know if I missed anything)

Had to repost because it wasn’t showing up in the tags

Y/N L/N had know Eddie Munson since middle school, they became friends in English class when Y/N was the only one who laughed at his jokes and outlandish personality. After time Eddie grew even fonder of them and friendship turned into love. Eddie thought Y/N would never love him the same way he loved them so he never said anything.

Around 8th grade Y/N knew they loved Eddie Munson more than a friend but by the time summer before freshman year came around they started falling into a depression. All of the shit at home and the stress of school started getting to them. They started losing weight and smoking cigarettes, Eddie noticed and was concerned but he figured they were just growing up. Later that year Eddie started The Hellfire Club and he offered Y/N to join but they declined knowing nothing about DnD.

Despite not playing DnD they were an honorary Hellfire member and still best friends with Eddie. The two of them spent more time together than with anyone else. Eddie knew he loved Y/N more than anything and he started seeing how depressed they were and he vowed to do whatever he could to help them. The summer before sophomore year Eddie started dealing drugs, he offered weed to you and that was enough to help you all the way up until junior year. You knew Eddie started selling ketamine on the side and you finally asked him for some.

Eddie saw you slipping back into depression and didn't know what to do so he gave you the ketamine. It was okay at first, it seemed like the special K was working but then by the time the spring semester came around you were taking more and more of the drug. Eddie was starting to get worried but you seemed better and all he wanted was for you to be happy so he kept getting the special K from Reefer Rick and giving to you.

Eventually Eddie saw that something was more wrong than before. The first week of senior year you were sitting at the lunch table next to Eddie and as everyone at the table was loudly conversing when Gareth noticed the you looked really pale and out of it. "Hey Eddie, are they okay?" he gestured to you across the table. "What?" Eddie said confused before looking over at you. Fuck, how could he not have noticed, your eyes were dilated and you looked like you were on the verge of passing out sitting at the table. "Shit." he finally spoke, he looked around. "I'll be back in a while." he said to everyone before gathering his things and you and quickly leading you to the abandoned bathroom.

He was practically carrying you to the bathroom, he thought you were so out of it you probably didn't even know you left the lunch table. Eddie was so scared when he looked over at your face and saw your eyes closing and your body growing heavier. He finally got you two safely to the bathroom and immediately sat you down lifting your face to look at him. "Hey! Hey!" he said frantically waiting with baited breath for you to open your eyes more. You looked at him hazily. "How much did you take? Y/N!" he yelled. "Why are you yelling?" you asked lazily. "I'm serious Y/n, how much did you take." he asked still frantically searching your eyes. "I don't know like three.. four I don't know." you slurred. He stopped, his breath getting caught in his throat. "Fuck. Fuck! Oh my god, Y/n you, you're only supposed to take one or two. How long ago?" he asked frantically. You hummed, "Right before lunch." "Did you swallow them?" he asked still frantic tapping your cheek to open your eyes again. "Yeah, know I don' like snorting it." You slurred more eyes starting to close again.

Eddie didn't know what else to do so he got you up from the floor and took you into one of the stalls. He pulled your hair out of your face and positioned you over the toilet before shoving his fingers down your throat. You started to gag and finally started throwing up, after the first time you started becoming more aware but Eddie made sure you puked a couple more times just to make sure. You were much more alert now but still a little out of it, you wiped your mouth on your sleeve before turning to Eddie. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Eds." you said your eyes still teary from throwing up. Eddie looked at you tears forming in his eyes, he was so scared. You started to cry. "I'm so sorry Eds." you cried hanging into him for comfort. Eddie wrapped his arms around you tightly holding you like you might disappear.

After you both calmed down he decided to take you back to his trailer. You were still a little out of it and you were falling asleep in the passenger seat of his van on the drive. Eddie frequently looked over at you as you dozed off. When you finally got back to the trailer he had you change and drink some water. After making sure you were still okay he let you fall asleep in his small bed while he anxiously sat next to you occasionally making sure you were breathing. He was so fucking scared. He knew you weren't doing great but he didn't think it was this bad.

When you finally woke up again it was dark out Eddie was still sitting up next to you in the same clothes but now he was reading a book he had told you about The Hobbit. You stretched before sitting up and putting your legs in criss cross. Eddie put his book down. "So are we gonna talk about it?" he asked. You nodded looking down. "I'm so sorry Eddie, you shouldn't of had to do that, I had a bad day and I just wanted to forget. I took one too many pills because I was so stressed and I'm so so sorry I scared you like that." "You can't do that shit anymore, you have to ease up you're only supposed to take one or two. You took four Y/n, four. I thought you were gonna die." he finally spoke. "I know and I'm sorry but I have it under control, I just had a bad day okay." "Had a bad day?" he raised his voice slightly, "You took twice as much as you were supposed to, and when was the last time you ate?" "We got breakfast together remember." you said. "Jesus Y/n that was yesterday. You haven't eaten in almost two days?" "I'm sorry okay like I said I had a bad day, a bad week but I have it under control it was just a bad week." Eddie stupidly accepted your answer.

You did get a little better you were still doing drugs but you were at least aware of your surroundings but then winter break came around. Things got so bad at home that you started coming over to Eddie's trailer almost everyday but then you suddenly stoped three days before Christmas. Eddie tried calling you but you didn't answer and eventually on New Years day he showed up to your house. He knocked on the door knowing both of your parents were at work. When you didn't answer he rang the door bell, still nothing. He then tried to just open the door, he was a little surprised when the door creaked open. The only light on in the house was in the kitchen. "Y/n!" he yelled out into the silent house. When he got no response he started looking for you he checked the kitchen first and then walked down the dark hallway towards your bedroom he could see the dim glow of the string lights you had hanging around your room from under the door. "Y/n!" he called again knocking lightly on the door before pushing it open.

His heart dropped as the door opened, you were passed out on top of your bed with the empty bottle of ketamine next to you. He ran to you immediately trying to shake you awake. "Y/n, Y/n, wake up, please wake up. Fuck! Y/N." He shook your unconscious body harder. You slightly opened your eyes, "Mmm, what, m' fine." you slurred lightly trying to push him off of you. "No!" he snapped. "You're not fucking fine Y/n! How many did you take this time?" he yelled. You sat up "I said I was fucking fine Eddie, okay just leave me alone." you said getting annoyed in your high state. "You're not fucking fine Y/n how many did you take?" he kept yelling. "Jesus Eddie I already told you I was fine okay, three wasn't woking so I took four okay, now leave me alone." you said laying back down. "Jesus fucking christ Y/n."

Eddie just sat there for about an hour while you were high out of your mind. After an hour he decided you would be fine for the rest of your trip. You had just been laying there staring at the ceiling and quietly talking to yourself for the hour anyway. Eddie hated himself in that moment, he never should have given you the special K and he sure as hell should have stopped giving it to you after that day the first week of school. Eddie was consumed with guilt and spent the rest of the day in his trailer flushing any of the special K he had left for you. He thought he was helping you at first but after that day when you were completely out of it at the lunch table he knew he should have stopped giving it to you then but he didn't want to lose you. Eddie Munson loved you more than anything and all he ever wanted to do was help you. He couldn't give you anymore drugs, you were going to kill yourself and he couldn't let that happen even if you hated him as a result.

The next day you showed up at his trailer like nothing had happened, you tried letting yourself in like you usually did but the door was locked. You knocked, "Eddie!" you called. You knew he was home as his van was parked in front of the trailer. Eddie came to the door and opened it but left the screen door locked. "What are you doing here Y/n?" he asked tiredly. "What do you mean? I come over all the time." "You haven't been here in over a week, I showed up at your house yesterday and you were high out of your mind Y/n." he said. "I got busy okay my parents wanted me home for the rest of break and I was just having fun yesterday, I was fine." you said lying through your teeth. "You weren't fine Y/n, you haven't been fine for a while." "Dude what the hell Eddie, I thought we were friends." you said getting agitated. "We are friends Y/n, you know I love you but I'm not gonna help you kill yourself." he said closing the door. "Eddie! Eddie what the fuck!" you yelled banging on the door. "Eddie! Eddie open the door. You, You can't fucking do this to me Eddie!" You screamed through the door banging your fists on it. "Eddie!" you cried "Eddie you fucking asshole, you did this to me, you gave me drugs in the fucking first place, this is your fault!" You screamed at him through you drug fueled rage. Eddie was sat on his sofa on the other side of the door, head in his hands crying because he knew everything you were saying was true. "Fuck!" you continued to scream. "Eddie please, you, you can't do this to me, please." you sobbed against the door. Eddie cried harder as he heard you sob. "Eddie! Please, Please! Just open the door!" You banged against the door a few more times still crying before you finally retreated and got back on your bike.

The spring semester of school started two days later and you weren't there. Eddie moped around school for the next two weeks unable to get you out of his head. The way you desperately screamed and cried though the door. At the end of the second week he finally got the courage to show up to your house. Eddie knocked on the door and your mom answered. "Hi Mrs. L/n, is Y/n home? I haven't heard from them in a while." "Hi Eddie, yeah Y/n is here they had the flu they're still not feeling well." They were detoxing Eddie thought to himself. "Um do you mind if I see them?" he asked nervously. "Yeah go ahead, I don't care." your mom said moving out of the door way. Eddie nervously walked down the hallway recalling the last time he was here. He lightly knocked on your bedroom door. "I'm still sick mom." he heard through the door. He opened the door and went inside you heard the door open and rolled over in your bed about to tell your mom off when you saw Eddie nervously standing in front of the door. You gasped and quickly got out of bed. "Eddie." you spoke as you collided with him and wrapped your arms around his torso burying your face into him. He had half expected you to yell at him or hit him so he was a bit surprised but wrapped his arms around you tightly. You started crying into him after about 30 seconds. "I'm so sorry Eddie." you said breaths growing heavier. Tears started welling in his eyes, with your face still buried into him you started apologizing over and over. "I'm so sorry Eddie I shouldn't have done that, I-I shouldn't have said that it wasn't true any of it, none of this was your fault." you sobbed into him. He was crying now and pulled your face away from him so he could see you. "I'm so sorry Y/n/n, I should have never given you that shit, and I'm so sorry you had to go through all of this alone." he wiped some of the still flowing tears off of your face. "I'm so sorry Eddie none of this was your fault, I asked you for the special K and I let it get out of hand. I'm so so sorry Eds and I'm done with that shit okay, I'm done." You said looking into his big brown eyes.

Eddie stayed with you the whole night, you guys talked and fell asleep together hoping for better days in the future. The next few weeks were hard Eddie refused to even let you near weed and the friendship you once had grew back. Eddie helped you through the rest of your detox and the two of you basically spent every moment together for the next month. You finally got back on track and got a job at the only record store in Hawkins and Eddie stoped dealing drugs and got a job as a mechanic on the weekends and a few months later you both graduated.

The week before graduation you and Eddie were hanging out in his trailer and he was reading The Hobbit to you while you rested in his lap and you couldn't help it anymore. Hearing his sweet voice and seeing the sparkle in his pretty brown eyes you pushed the book down and kissed him. Eddie was very surprised at first and started kissing you back. When you finally parted he spoke, "What was that for." A goofy smile on his face. "I love you Eds, you've been here with me since middle school and you were by my side through all of the shit I put you through and I love you." he smiled even wider. "I've loved you since middle school Y/n/n and Ive never stopped loving you, you're the most important thing to me, more important than my guitar, DnD, anything." You smiled. "I'm even more important than your guitar?" you questioned, "Definitely." he said before kissing you again.

[taylorrama]

The Locked Tomb and mewithoutYou pt. 1/17

The Venn Diagram of Locked Tomb readers and mewithoutYou fans is probably two circles not touching, but it should really probably be two overlapping circles, not only because mwY is my favorite band of all time, but also because, like TLT, mwY is filled to the brim with obscure literary/religious references, and the later albums in particular have the "I don't understand what's happening at all, but I love it" energy of TLT.

mewithoutYou is a hard band to describe, but one decent way is to place them somewhere in the post-hardcore and indie realm. Screaming vocals. Heavy guitars. But then there's the folk album about vegetables.

Anyway, first of all, there's that name. mewithoutYou. Ring any bells? I have to say I laughed at that line at the end of Gideon the Ninth because I knew it couldn't actually be a mwY reference, but last summer, mewithoutYou played their final tour and their final shows, so now there really is no "me without you" or "mewithoutYou." I read Gideon after all that, so funny haha for me.

Let me start off by giving you just one song and then I'll make more posts. Despite the fact that this is my favorite band, I try not to always be like "every piece of art that does religious things in a way I like is a mewithoutYou reference." This band isn't that well-known, except it's likely that your favorite band or artist likes them to some degree (e.g., Hayley Williams, boygenius).

TW: depression, suicidal ideation

Song: Tie Me Up, Untie Me! Album: Catch For Us the Foxes

This song is Harrow in her self-hatred era, which is always. These sections in particular stand out.

I was licking at the leaves But I was in short sleeves and you You were like some sickness that I caught

"You were like some sickness that I caught" to me sounds like something Harrow would absolutely think about Gideon.

(Oh, please, brother, I'm far... Brother, I'm far away... Brother, I'm far away from everything Oh, brother, I'm far... Brother, I'm far away... Brother! I'm far away from everything good!)

This part sounds like a desperate prayer, especially how it's performed. Ninth House loves prayers.

She's like a hot cloth on a fevered head And like a needle she leads me (while I follow like thread) Tie me up! Untie me! All this wishing I was dead is getting old It's gettin' old! ... it goes on, but it's old

This is the chorus and it just strikes me as part of Harrow's mental state for the entirety of Harrow the Ninth. "She" could be about Griddlehark. It could be Harrianthe.

Now we get to some really interesting images in the next verse.

I was swimming through the waves For what must have been days But could find no relief When I started sinking down I thought for certain I would drown Until I saw you in the ocean Underneath

The River. The River. The River and how the necromancer/cavalier relationship works in lyctorhood/near-lyctorhood.

You, my hidden pearl of pure and perfect love And I'm the living example Of 100% the opposite of this

Right in the Griddlehark feels, honestly.

This next part is actually what threw me on this train of "this series accidentally (probably) pairs with most of this band's discography." I was finishing Nona the Ninth the other night and got to this part.

The silly referential part of my brain said, "This sounds like a mwY reference." Two, actually, but this is the part from "Tie Me Up! Untie Me!" that goes.

(If I ask the same questions… Well, yes, sir, I ask the same questions Well, well maybe I repeat myself from time to time But if I ask the same questions… And then I know I ask the same questions It's because everyone who answers me is a liar!)

It's the last three lines in particular, and the "liar" part also works well in the context of this scene, where Nona is so frustrated and desperately trying not to remember anything. The way she's saying this as well matches the way this part of the song is performed (letting her voice rush out).

"We don't need it" pings my brain with a different line for a different song for a different post.

And then I'll just leave you with the last chorus.

She's like the hot cloth on a fevered head And like a needle she leads me (while I follow like thread) But you untied me... didn't You untie me, Lord? And now I haven't even thought about killing myself In almost five months

I'll be rereading the series because I'm taking notes on a video I want to make about the theology of the Locked Tomb (to be released only after Alecto comes out), but these mewithoutYou thoughts are a by-product of my processing of the first read through.

---

TLT + mewithoutYou pt. 2

[pluralismajestatis]

Stuff and things. We haven't been writing in a bit, and I don't know if it's because brain empty no thoughts or because we've been busy otherwise or what, but there's a whole backlog of shit that's tiring and depressing and it's kind of hitting T hard. He seems to be the guy who's hoarding all of the mental illness we had before our DID diagnosis, and I think it's unfair to leave him to deal with it, blaming himself for what's going on with him. He's not bringing us down, we're placing all of the weight of everything the rest of us are blissfully unbothered by on him. And it's a long list, so let's start with something.

First - that fucking Canadian law. Never had a decision made on the literal other end of the globe hit us so hard and make us feel so hopeless on sight. We first heard of it some months ago on Reddit, which is the shittiest place on earth to be first hearing about anything on, mainly because its userbase consists of unrepenting voluntary sociopaths. (Something's climbing the cabin's wall. Sounds like a magpie but might be a squirrel. We're holed away someplace a stone's throw away from the Russian border in the arctic circle. It's atmospheric. Coincidentally also where T first became aware of being here, since I was talking about him earlier. None of this has anything to do with the euthanasia law, but suddenly hearing something scraping against your hut's outside wall is like, okay, cool, WHAT IS THAT?)

So yeah, Reddit. Knee-jerk reaction. Wrote in disbelief; this is unethical. This is not right. Suicidal ideation is such a common symptom in mental illness it's literally right there in most of the diagnostic manual entries. Literally right there, and now you're saying that instead of treating the people who experience common symptoms of mental illness, you're just going to kill them instead? How is that not eugenics? How is that not genocide? (It is.)

Got hit by a wave of forementioned Reddit cynicists. "You're the real monster," we're told. "You're denying people their right to end their suffering."

Brother - and I use this word with the utmost disrespect in my tone - I am these people. You might perceive that from just the way I mostly referred to myself as "we" in the text so far, but let me specify: we have been suffering of treatment-resistant, delibilitating, excruciating severe mental illness since we were children. We were neurodivergent before puberty and that was difficult enough, but by the time we started school, our father had turned into a violent monster who took his anger out on us, a child of 7 years old, while unemployed and our mother worked 8 to 4 every day. Sometimes she was out on business trips that took a week or maybe even two. She'd ask for her friends to babysit us, and they'd ask her why not just trust our father? She told them he had violent rages, they told her they couldn't believe that about such a nice guy, but because they were her friends, they'd do what she needed of them. Nobody ever believed us.

There's more than that, obviously. Not the point of this story. When we turned 11, our homeroom teacher responsible for most of our classes and all education outside of subject classes, had to take leave due to breast cancer. She was replaced by the meanest, most hateful bitch I've ever met. She targeted us because we weren't normal and she could smell it from miles away. By the second half of the semester, we would sit in our dark closet crying and wanting to die. We stopped doing our homework, and once that routine was gone, we could never pick it up again. By 12 years old, though she was gone by then, replaced by a creepy old guy who liked massaging the shoulders of girls while rocking into their desks with his hips and would make "checks" of the girls' showers after gym, we no longer could attend half of the semester at all. That period of unattending became longer and longer with each passing year, to the point where we'd go to school after summer vacation for about one month, and then drop out again.

We got placed in a group home, severing the last remaining friendships and connections we had at home, and leaving us in the middle of people with genuine behavioural issues and frequent clashes with the law, while our only problem was that we were desperate and could not keep up with routine.

We never did get better. A year after that ended, we entered voluntary hospitalisation for two months. The staff proceeded to ignore us, we were never even given our permission slip to exit the ward even though at the point where we were doing so poorly we demanded to cut the stay short, they wanted to act like it had been known all of the time that we didn't have to stay indoors under supervision. Guess what? Our name was not on the permission slip. Our mother made them check. The head psychiatrist of the ward was another insane control freak, I don't want to talk about her. Her deal was humiliation and arrogance, and her parting words to us "I'll see you back in a couple weeks when you're carried back here in an ambulance wearing a straitjacket." (She did not, in fact, see us back ever again.)

We moved out from home at 18, because living with our mother was impossible. She's never understood what mental illness means and cannot stand our neurodivergency. For just short of ten years from there, we were outpatients living on partial everyday assistance; we had an attendee from the social services who'd help us buy groceries, attend our appointments, and occasionally clean up the house though most the time we were too depressed to move a muscle if we didn't have to.

In 2016, we had a psychotic episode that didn't just go away like the prior ones had. I don't actually have much memories from any of our twenties, but they were miserable; we were either constantly in a permanent state of existential fear of our own impending death, or trying to hurry it along through suicidal fits and overdoses and self-harm. We were (mis)diagnosed with BPD around 27, after similar misdiagnoses of bipolar disorder earlier. The gist was that nobody knew what to do with us, and nobody was actually invested enough to figure it out. Our psychiatric contacts - doctors, nurses - dropped us on a yearly basis. The period of establishing trust got longer and longer each time, to the point where when they'd leave, we hadn't started to feel comfortable working with them yet. Constant abandonment, constant giving up, constant "you can't be helped." The years between our 25 and 29 were more or less spent trying to get a consensus on whether insurance would cover "real" talk therapy for us or not; every time one person told us to apply for it, the next person would tell us it was pointless because we were too ill to be approved, and would have to cover the whole cost ourselves, which obviously living on disability payments was not physically possible.

This all ended at the bend of 29 to 30, when we coincidentally met someone we for the first time told about our dissociative symptoms. They urged us to look into it more, which we did, and it immediately became glaringly obvious that the symptoms we'd obsessively protected and never uttered a word about in fear of some catastrophe or divine punishment raining down on us were actually clinically so significant that we needed help not yesterday, but decades ago. As a result, after failing to put us into involuntary care, our clinic kicked us out as untreatable, with nothing but a list of therapists to contact.

None of whom were dissociation specialists, and none of whom were taking patients, and only few of whom were covered by insurance to begin with, that is, if insurance would have ever even covered us to begin with. Again, untreatable. Turning to our mother, we hopped continents, got a trauma/dissociation specialist from the United fucking States of America instead, and with some cooperation between her and our local psychiatric unit (as they were ending our patientship with them) finally reached a consensus on what was actually wrong with us. Not BPD, which was scrapped, but DID.

So, how does any of this relate to Canada, and Canada's eugenics laws? Have you heard already about the patients who are recommended assisted suicide by their "care" teams? Do you see what I'm implying here?

This fucking disaster of a law is a glaring reminder that no matter the fact that we're doing better - marginally, not good enough to be anything but disabled, but still better than ever - we'd still be on the chopping block here? Not only do we have a disorder that the psychiatric world is inherently biased against and fearful towards, that most of it doesn't even want to try to understand, we are and have already been a lost case since childhood. There's no full recovery for us. There's no return to baseline functioning. Even as we are now, we are so vulnerable, teetering on the sharpest of edges, that it would be more of a surprise if, given the opportunity, our health "care" professionals wouldn't try to convince us into "assisted suicide."

It's the starkest of reminders that the world does not care about us, that we're treated and seen as nothing but burdens, that society wants us dead for reasons ranging from saving money to discomfort and embarrasment and fear.

How can you even keep trying to be better with that knowledge? Every time we open up about it, there's some self-appointed devil's advocate ready to ask us if it really wouldn't just be better, if we wouldn't actually be happier if we could just die. Not if they'd be happier if we'd just die, making their world more comfortable to live in as they don't have to contend with the concept of sick and injured people - but if we don't actually, secretly, still just want to be dead. And if we don't want to die then that's selfish; selfish because we're draining society's money, selfish because we're denying other people the right to be murdered by doctors who supposedly swore an oath to never do harm, selfish because we don't let them feel the self-assured comfort of being the good guy who lets the unfit to live take their own lives.

Suicidal ideation used to be a serious symptom that meant the patient was crying for help, crying to be seen, crying out to have people notice and care and show them that they're not alone and that there's always hope, someone who'll take their hand and help them walk forwards.

Now, apparently, this fascist shitshow of a society has decided that it's actually just the patient rationally showing that they agree with the mainstream view of it being better for everybody if they just died off.

And you want me to be okay with this? Just go on like it's fine? Just act like this isn't personal? Just accept that not only should I let other people be killed, but that I, and everyone else in this fucked up little head of mine, would actually be better off dead ourselves?

I have no fucking words left.

[creylune]

keep feeling like i’m not cut out for this college thing

[theninjasanctuary]

Unsure if actually depressed or just thinking I am because of PMS.

Either way, some suicidal ideation for the first time in a while. Seems like I'm pretending to cope at best. I try to clean, etc., but it's never enough, the place is still a mess. I've wanted to take the rug to be cleaned for months now. OTL

There are annoyances piling up. The gum behind one of my lower wisdom teeth is borderline inflame-y for the third day and the usual chlorhexidine mouth wash hasn't fixed it, worried it'll go septic and I'm going to have to make an appointment so I can get antibiotics. My wrist is still not fucking OK, I've done everything I can for 2 and a half months to make it better and it's just not healing. It felt kind of ok-ish for a couple of days last week, but then random movements like adjusting my hat or mask hurt again. The physio said it might be the weather change (old enough now to start feeling that shit in my bones?). And I've started getting some kind of nerve pain in my left shoulder, so that's getting all the same ointments the wrist's been having, for all the good it'll do.

Work is piling up as well, and I can barely deal. Which leads to a vicious circle of not doing other things I either need to do or enjoy out of guilt over not working, and wasting time on mindless petty procrastination instead because it's not as if I can focus just because I have to. I do the bare minimum at absurd hours of the night and then sleep until it is dark again and avoid looking at my emails because I'm tired of making up excuses.

At least the black trousers that are kind of tight still fit? Wore them to uncle's funeral yesterday. It was ok, as far as funerals go, even though there was that busybody neighbour who always insists on getting some shitty comments in whenever she sees me, on the topic of not having kids. I don't know nor care what her deal is.

I guess what is getting to me is that I don't see how any of this is ever going to get any better? Haven't got a time management skill and don't know how to get one. Can't improve my sleep schedule, because even if I go to bed earlier, I won't fall asleep, and then ruin any chance progress when I am easily up till 8 AM when panic fixing some work shit before the deadline, which seems to happen every week - because I know I can't focus for hours and hours after I wake up, it is either late at night or nothing. Being consumed by worry about work means zero progress or actual regress on any other life goals. Couch potatoing the winter away, already stressed about the insane amount of extra garden maintenance chores spring and summer will bring and how my body will cope. What about fucking driving school? Kitchen reno? I cannot fathom how I'm supposed to make any of it happen, for all the work stress I don't earn nowhere near enough to just throw money at my problems.

[itsclydebitches]

If we want to give RWBY the most generous interpretation possible, I'd say the whole thing was meant to say that the mistakes Ruby made in previous volumes were a result of trying to emulate Summer/fairy tale heroes, and the whole arc of the volume is her learning that these heroes are flawed and she shouldn't try to emulate them perfectly. Of course, this really wasn't set up well if that's the case, but hey I'm trying to throw a bone here.

I do think that's the general vibe they were going for. Like the generic "be yourself" message, it's a great takeaway on the surface, just horribly executed to the point of, at times, actively undermining what RT wants to say. Example: accepting yourself is the ultimate end goal so that's why, uh... Ascension turns you into someone entirely new? Unless you're the protagonist, of course, because what story wants to deal with that can of worms.

Beyond the numerous issues I have with Volume 9 itself, I find this "Ruby needed to accept that she was trying to live up to the impossible standard of Summer Rose" to be incredibly unpersuasive given that Summer hasn't been portrayed as a perfect hero for the majority of the series. Maybe at the very start when Ruby was more naively optimistic and less informed, but definitely not past Volume 4. She learned fairly early in the story that Summer didn't just die on a random huntsmen mission doing Good Hero Work, but that this was something connected to Salem - AKA, the super morally ambiguous fight that the group has been criticizing since they learned of its existence. Ruby herself has experienced being a huntress in this world, making gray choices left and right (if I'm being kind), so how in the world would she have maintained this idealized image of Summer's own career? To say nothing of how Ruby never expresses any opinions about Summer, warped or otherwise, because no one ever talks about her. The supposedly ~emotional~ trinket this Volume was a rose emblem Ruby gave up after never ONCE mentioning it before she's given it back from the tree and... proceeds to continue not mentioning it. After 9 Volumes Summer has remained firmly in the personality void of Dead Mothers. All we knew about her going into this Volume was that she was a SEW and liked to bake cookies. We couldn't even emphasize her reading Ruby impressionable, highly inaccurate fairy tales because the early Volumes told us that Yang read her those. Summer doesn't exist as a person, so all we have to work with is Ruby's own experiences which consistently undermine the idea that her mother was a flawless hero. She was part of what Ruby now knows to be a highly, systematically flawed career, working for Ozpin, who then died. Without some inkling as to how Ruby sees her mother - and how she's maintained that narrow perspective in the face of everything in Volumes 3-8 - what about this says Perfect Person, Impossible to Emulate?

Which makes the whole "My mother LIED? Omg she wasn't perfect?? Clearly I don't need to be perfect either! 🤯" revelation... not really a revelation at all. Which isn't even taking into account a) Ruby's own choice to give a doozy of a lie a couple weeks back (if anything, she should consider that a mark in Summer's favor) and b) the fact that this depression, self-doubt, and suicidal ideation stems from the very real problems Ruby has no idea how to fix. It's like watching someone collapse because their house is on fire and they don't have any means of putting it out. "Don't worry," the mystical therapist says, "Your mother loves you and you don't have to be perfect." Fantastic takeaway! The house is still burning.

[graysonfirewolf85-blog]

Suicide and Witchcraft

The one question everyone has asked without exception, that they ache to have answered more than any other, is simply: why? Why did their friend, child, parent, spouse, or sibling take their own life? Even when a note explaining the reasons is found, lingering questions usually remain: yes, they felt enough despair to want to die, but why did they feel that? A person's suicide often takes the people it leaves behind by surprise (only accentuating survivor's guilt for failing to see it coming).

People who've survived suicide attempts have reported wanting not so much to die as to stop living, a strange dichotomy but a valid one nevertheless. If some in-between state existed, some other alternative to death, I suspect many suicidal people would take it.

In general, people try to kill themselves for six reasons:

1) They're depressed. This is without question the most common reason people commit suicide. Severe depression is always accompanied by a pervasive sense of suffering as well as the belief that escape from it is hopeless. The pain of existence often becomes too much for severely depressed people to bear. The state of depression warps their thinking, allowing ideas like "Everyone would all be better off without me" to make rational sense. They shouldn't be blamed for falling prey to such distorted thoughts any more than a heart patient should be blamed for experiencing chest pain: it's simply the nature of their disease. Because depression, as we all know, is almost always treatable, we should all seek to recognize its presence in our close friends and loved ones. Often people suffer with it silently, planning suicide without anyone ever knowing. Despite making both parties uncomfortable, inquiring directly about suicidal thoughts in my experience almost always yields an honest response. If you suspect someone might be depressed, don't allow your tendency to deny the possibility of suicidal ideation prevent you from asking about it.

2) They're psychotic. Malevolent inner voices often command self-destruction for unintelligible reasons. Psychosis is much harder to mask than depression, and is arguably even more tragic. The worldwide incidence of schizophrenia is 1% and often strikes otherwise healthy, high-performing individuals, whose lives, though manageable with medication, never fulfill their original promise. Schizophrenics are just as likely to talk freely about the voices commanding them to kill themselves as not, and also, in my experience, give honest answers about thoughts of suicide when asked directly. Psychosis, too, is treatable, and usually must be treated for a schizophrenic to be able to function at all. Untreated or poorly treated psychosis almost always requires hospital admission to a locked ward until the voices lose their commanding power.

3) They're impulsive. Often related to drugs and alcohol, some people become maudlin and impulsively attempt to end their own lives. Once sobered and calmed, these people usually feel emphatically ashamed. The remorse is often genuine, but whether or not they'll ever attempt suicide again is unpredictable. They may try it again the very next time they become drunk or high, or never again in their lifetime. Hospital admission is therefore not usually indicated. Substance abuse and the underlying reasons for it are generally a greater concern in these people and should be addressed as aggressively as possible.

4) They're crying out for help, and don't know how else to get it. These people don't usually want to die but do want to alert those around them that something is seriously wrong. They often don't believe they will die, frequently choosing methods they don't think can kill them in order to strike out at someone who's hurt them, but they are sometimes tragically misinformed. The prototypical example of this is a young teenage girl suffering genuine angst because of a relationship, either with a friend, boyfriend, or parent, who swallows a bottle of Tylenol, not realizing that in high enough doses Tylenol causes irreversible liver damage. I've watched more than one teenager die a horrible death in an ICU days after such an ingestion when remorse has already cured them of their desire to die and their true goal of alerting those close to them of their distress has been achieved.

5) They have a philosophical desire to die. The decision to commit suicide for some is based on a reasoned decision, often motivated by the presence of a painful terminal illness from which little to no hope of reprieve exists. These people aren't depressed, psychotic, maudlin, or crying out for help. They're trying to take control of their destiny and alleviate their own suffering, which usually can only be done in death. They often look at their choice to commit suicide as a way to shorten a dying that will happen regardless. In my personal view, if such people are evaluated by a qualified professional who can reliably exclude the other possibilities for why suicide is desired, these people should be allowed to die at their own hands.

6) They've made a mistake. This is a recent, tragic phenomenon in which typically young people flirt with oxygen deprivation for the high it brings and simply go too far. The only defense against this, it seems to me, is education.

The wounds suicide leaves in the lives of those left behind by it are often deep and long lasting. The apparent senselessness of suicide often fuels the most significant pain. Thinking we all deal better with tragedy when we understand its underpinnings, I've offered the preceding paragraphs in hopes that anyone reading this who's been left behind by a suicide might be able to more easily find a way to move on, to relinquish their guilt and anger, and find closure. Despite the abrupt way you may have been left, guilt and anger don't have to be the only two emotions you're doomed to feel about the one who left you

Powerless

So you feel powerless? You feel like you don't know what to do and think you're a failure as a witch. How do we use magick which requires our full sensibilities, willpower, emotional functions such as love, passion, and desire if they are dulled by medication? That is a good question. Is crossed my mind quite a bit. Our Magick is definitely affected.

"Witchcraft is the craft of the wise. Wise people don’t become wise simply because they have acquired some knowledge. They become wise because their knowledge is enhanced through experience. Strong Healers were often inspired through needing healing in the first place. Through our own healing, we can be inspired to heal and without the experience of being a patient we can not fully understand how to healing process can work."

The Pretty Pill

"Drugs often interfere with real magick. The nature of how anti-depressants work is in how they “dull the senses”. It changes the chemical balance in the brain to enhance the mood which often takes away emotional aspects of what we draw from when creating and manifesting from desire. But… So does depression… There are many physical causes of depression that can be managed through other forms of treatments and yes, many of them are holistic. If someone is suicidal or dealing with depression, should they NOT take their anti-depressants? I am not saying that at all. For many, anti-depressants are necessary at least for a while. I am saying there may be another solution to look into as part of the long-term treatment plan."

have too agree with the above from Summer in her article in Witch Digest. Drugs for depression are designed to dull the senses. It's also a teeter-totter in the sense that some cases require the use of anti-depressants. YET, again, not all drugs are designed to dull the senses and sometimes the drugs don't even work

6 Ways to Improve

Balance and Grounding

The mind, body, and spirit work together. When one part is out of balance, it can throw the other parts of us out of whack. That is the theory of finding balance. The art of trying to keep all three aspects in balance at the same time. I believe it takes a lifetime to master and I don’t believe it is actually 100% mastered even by the masters. That is how grounding helps us regain our balance.

Diet

Sometimes the food we eat doesn’t work well with our bodies and throws off the balance of our overall well-being. Finding a diet that works for us through a process of elimination and cleansing to help us feel our best can have positive effects but it may not be the end all solution. That also may include a dietary supplement. Care must be taken when changing one’s diet or adding a supplement. A good example is St. John’s Wort because it is known for being a mood enhancer. The biggest problem with St. John’s Wort is for those with Bipolar it can make things worse and increase the cycling effects of the disease. Not to mention how it works is by changing the levels of serotonin, a chemical in the brain, and so does anti-depressants and the combinations can be dangerous and even life-threatening.

Exercise

Adding exercise to one’s lifestyle can have many health benefits. Exercise is known to increase endorphins that can have a mood enhancing effect. But, we have to be careful not injure ourselves and care must be taken. Exercises that get our bodies in motion are great. I enjoy a dance night where I get up and dance in my living room and have a blast being silly or going for a scenic walk around my neighborhood when safety permits or even walking in the local mall. Chi gong, Tai Chi and even Yoga is said to have positive effects on mood and energy.

Holistic energy healing

Holistic healing techniques such as Reiki for some can make a huge difference as part of the whole healing and recovery process.

Meditation

This can help us regulate our balance and grounding through trying various techniques. These techniques can be found through counseling, learning through teachers or masters and even through internet searches.

Counseling

Most of all, counseling if done with the correct mindset can also add to recovery in the healing process. I have seen people go through years of psychotherapy and never recover and I have seen someone go through just a few sessions or a few years of therapy and do more healing than ever expected. Finding the right type and quality of counselor is necessary. Remembering that a counselor can only guide you on your healing path and the healing process is up to you is a key factor in benefiting from counseling.

Permanently Medicated

If one is permanently medicated or even temporarily, How can a Witch work magick while medicated? Well, there is a way. You have to work around the constraints and only you, the magickal practitioner can discover what that is for yourself. Knowing how your illness works on your overall health, which contains all three of the mind, body, and spirit and how the treatments affect your overall health is a good place to start.

Trial and error is often the only way to figure out which options work best for you.

Conclusion

Healing one aspect of our whole being requires the complimentary healing of each of our three parts; Mind, body, and spirit. At least that is what I believe. For some, medication can actually enhance their well-being and therefore increases their magickal abilities.

[Source 1|https://witchdigest.com/25707/can-depression-affect-my-magick/]

[Source 2|https://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/topics/depression/index.shtml]

[Source 3|https://www.google.com/amp/s/www.psychologytoday.com/intl/blog/happiness-in-world/201004/the-six-reasons-people-attempt-suicide%3famp]

[cryolyst]

~